Core
by Wickfield
Summary: Dexter wants to change the world. Dee Dee wants things to stay the same. And neither of them are prepared for what the future really holds. Ego Trip-verse, rated for violence, mild language and innuendo.
1. Changes

_A/N: To view artwork related to the story, please be sure to visit Wickfield on DeviantART, thank you. :)_

 **CORE**

 **An Ego Trip Fanfiction**

 **by Wickfield**

 _"I never think of the future - it comes soon enough."_

 _― Albert Einstein_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **Changes**

"Ugh, why am I alwayssuch a _klutz_?"

Even she couldn't help rolling her eyes. She'd only had the phone for two weeks – only sent a couple thousand texts! – before she'd managed to smash it into splinters of plastic and wire. She tried to brush her fingertip over the screen, hoping maybe she could bring some ghost of an image to life, but it just wasn't going to happen. The glass was split into too many fragments. Did you get bad luck from that? Dee Dee couldn't remember.

"He's gonna yell at me. Oh well. I'd yell at me too." She stepped back and studied the bookshelf on the wall. It used to be Hawk's _Theorem on Magnetronic Splitting_ that did the trick, but he was always changing them around. She felt in a Newtonian mood today, so she reached for a thick volume with the scientist's name stamped on the side in big letters. Sure enough, the bookshelf slid aside without protest, the bolted doors unlatching automatically, layer after layer opening up with a groan like the jaws of some strange metallic creature.

Dee Dee couldn't suppress a smile. It had been _way_ too long.

He hadn't done much redecorating since the last time she'd crashed the laboratory. There were the same blue tiled floors, the same towering walls lined with every kind of control panel imaginable (and then some), the same dim lights that made a girl look totally terrible if she happened to catch her reflection in a sheet of polished steel. But there was still something…strange, about the place. It seemed bigger. Like there was more space. It felt kind of empty. She was probably just imagining it.

Dee Dee slid across the floor, and her smile grew wide. She was wearing her work clothes, and her dance shoes allowed her to skate and pirouette perfectly along the smooth tiles. And just like old times, there was Dexter, hunched over one of his desks, busily piling papers into one of those work…suitcase….things. Dee Dee racked her brain. A briefcase! That was what it was called.

"He doesn't even know I'm here," she realized with a grin. His shoulders were hitched up around his ears and he was clearly in deep concentration. Biting her lip so she couldn't let the smallest giggle escape, Dee Dee tiptoed over to the pale, hunched figure, quietly…super quietly...and she reached out to cover his specs with her hands –

"GUESS WHO!"

"DEE DEE!" Dexter ducked out of her grasp, swinging his elbow into a mug of coffee. It fell clattering against an atomic pulse generator, sending electrical sparks flying into the air before breaking against the floor. Dee Dee dissolved into giggles.

"We have a winner!" she spluttered. Dexter just twitched his lab coat back into place on his shoulders and glared, first at the weak coffee puddling on the floor, and then at her.

"You find humor in this childish display, do you? Typical."

Dee Dee made a big show of sighing _dramatically_. "Oh, Dexter, don't be so _stiff_. You think you'd have grown out of that after all those college parties, you know?" She shook him around his shoulders, then grabbed him and squeezed him into a hug, but he only pulled away again with a mighty frown.

"I did not spend my time _partying_ , sister, I spent my time studying, as one is _supposed_ to do in an educational establishment. Besides," he retorted, "what do _you_ know of college? Only what you have seen in movies, I suppose."

Ouch. That one stung a little. "Geez, Dexter. You don't pull your punches."

The red-haired genius shrugged. "Ah, you are right. You _did_ complete two semesters at Huber Community College before dropping out. I should give credit where credit is due."

He turned his back on her, and turned his attention to the documents spread out on his desk. Looking at some numbers printed across the top, he carefully selected one and slipped it into a pocket in his business suitcase. Dee Dee raised herself on tiptoe so she could see over his shoulder. She still wasn't used to…well, his _height_. Personally, she suspected that he'd developed another gross formula that had allowed him to grow to human proportions, but would make him sprout an extra head at any second. "What _are_ those, anyway?" she asked.

"You cannot be serious." When he realized she wasn't joking, he elaborated, "These are technical diagrams. Blueprints, if you will."

"Blueprints," Dee Dee repeated, staring at the colored papers. "Oh, you mean like Wile E. Coyote?"

Dexter just sighed and braced his palms against the desktop before looking over his shoulder. "I fail to see the connection."

"Wile E. Coyote! You know, Looney Tunes? " Dexter's blank expression reminded her he had almost never watched cartoons as a kid, so she knew she would have to explain. "See, the Coyote would always draw these pictures of these weird machines and stuff, like your blue drawings, and try to outsmart the Road Runner. But when he built them they would always backfire, and – "

"My experiments do not _backfire_ ," Dexter snapped. "So there is no comparison."

"I always liked the Road Runner," Dee Dee mused. "He was smart. So, what are the blueprints for?"

This time Dexter just kept working, slowly and deliberately sorting his papers and not doing a good job at making it look like anything but the most boring task in the world. "You still don't have any clue what I am going to be doing at MegaCorp, do you?" he grumbled. "Even though I'm only starting in _three days."_

Dee Dee planted her hands on her hips. "Sure I do. You are going to be their Research Physicist." She'd worked really hard to remember that, just in case of a test like this one.

"Very good. And do you know what a Research Physicist _does_?"

"Um….no, I do not." Fortunately Dexter always loved to talk about himself, and Dee Dee knew she was going to need him good and happy if he was going to help her out today. "What _does_ a Research Physicist do?"

Dexter stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back like he always did when he wanted to look impressive. Dee Dee had a feeling he had been rehearsing for this moment too.

"Well, Dee Dee," he recited, "a Research Physicist such as myself is a _most critical member_ of the corporation. As a MegaCorp employee I will be using the skills I acquired in my doctoral studies, as well as my own personal expertise in mechanics, computer science and general engineering, to develop new technologies for the betterment of the future. And you and I both know," he concluded, "that there will _be_ no future without MegaCorp's involvement."

Dee Dee nodded slowly. If that explanation was supposed to clear things up it didn't exactly work, but she wasn't going to admit that to Dexter. "So…you're going to be inventing stuff for MegaCorp, then," she translated. "But, gosh, they've already invented everything!"

"They certainly have a hand in most modern technological innovations," Dexter nodded with some satisfaction. "Almost everyone in the country has been affected by the corporation's influence. Smart cars, hoverboards, holographic billboards, not to mention the more mundane developments in television sets, personal computers, and – "

"Phones!" Dee Dee volunteered.

"Yes, telephones. MegaCorp has improved them all. However, the corporation has not become the world power it is today by resting on its laurels. It is always searching for the newest and brightest talent to help it progress. And it's newest and certainly _brightest_ talent stands here before you. So leave me alone. You know where to find the exit."

 _Aw, lookit at him, he's super excited!_ Dee Dee could see that right away, in the way Dexter squared his shoulders, in the little smile that had crept onto his own face. She had no doubt at all that the corporation would be way better than it had ever been now that Dexter was on board. "These drawings are your inventions then, huh?" She picked one up from the pile and expertly evaded Dexter as he tried to snatch it away. "Teletronic Bubble Transport, prototype A-6," she read aloud. "Hee hee, it looks kinda like a hamster ball!"

"Dee Dee, _give_ me that – "

"And ooh, this one looks like a hearing aid thing! Teletronic…Transference Receptor. Huh. What does it do?"

"It doesn't matter _what_ it does. You would never understand." Dexter grabbed both papers and tucked them deep out of reach in his briefcase.

"Of course I won't understand if you don't _tell_ me."

Dexter eyed her, skeptical. "Suffice it to say that I intend to establish myself as one of the driving forces behind MegaCorp's advancement in the coming years. The inventions you see before you will allow me to implement the science behind my really greatest invention on a grand scale, propelling my name to the ranks of such benefactors as Einstein, Kepler, and Newton. To start, however, I will have to work on the less interesting little projects." He sighed dismally and stabbed at a few simplistic drawings with a purple finger. "Like automobiles and telephones."

Telephones, perfect! Now was her chance. Dee Dee sidled up to her brother, who was still mostly ignoring her. She reached into her dance bag, shoving aside her spare leotard and some old protein bar wrappers, and felt for the corners of her broken smartphone.

"So, Dexter…since you _are_ gonna be working for MegaCorp and all, I bet you would totally be able to help me fix my new phone!" Before he could protest, Dee Dee blurted out the rest. " _Obviously_ they need your help over there, their phones are _really_ expensive but they don't hold up well at all! I mean, you'd _think_ that for a couple hundred bucks you could run it through the washing machine and it would just get a little soggy, but I mean the screen is totally wonky now and I think there's still some soap inside maybe and – "

" _Dee Dee_!" There it was. The yelling. His face was already as purple as his gloves. "This is…this is insane! You've barely had this phone for a month, why, it's only been two weeks since your birthday!" He whisked the phone out of her hand with so much force she jumped a bit. "I _told_ mother that you were hopeless with technology and now that's three hundred dollars of her money down the drain – literally! I always knew you had no regard at all for _my_ property but I cannot believe you would be so destructive with your own!"

Dee Dee felt her face flare red. It used to be easy to ignore Dexter when he stood not-quite-two-feet-high, but now that he was a good six inches taller than she was his exasperation hit a little harder.

"I know, I know," she said, careful not to meet his eyes, "I'm - "

"Stupid, yes! Amazingly so!"

Dee Dee sighed. "O _kay._ But can you fix it?"

Dexter adjusted his eyeglasses and looked down his nose, flipping the phone over in his gloved palm. Then with a sniff he tossed it sliding across the desk.

"Completely destroyed. Not worth the effort."

"Oh Dex, come on!"

Dexter's shoulders tensed and she could tell he was still bristling with indignation. "You might as well buy a new phone, you obliterated this one. Just like your last two cars," he added under his breath _._

 _"_ But I _know_ you can fix - "

"The answer is no, Dee Dee. When are you _ever_ going to learn? Some things just cannot be repaired!" He reached across the table to retrieve the broken phone, but Dee Dee frowned and snatched it from his hand.

"Well what am I supposed to do, then?" she demanded, hurling it to the depths of her bag.

"What any intelligent person would do and _buy a new one_."

God, he was so clueless! "I _can't_ , Dexter," she pleaded, "I barely have enough for _rent_ this month. Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

"Not funny, perhaps, but entirely predictable." Dexter shut his briefcase, clicking both clasps into place, and shuffled over to his primary workstation, dimly lit by a row of flourescent lights that glowed upon the beakers and coils of tubing arching across the desktop. She'd always wondered how he could see down here, especially since he was nearly blind even with his ultra-thick glasses.

Dee Dee watched him pull open a couple of metal drawers, muttering to himself, before emerging with a rounded device made of white plastic. "This is an experimental phone I made in sixth grade. You may use this one until you can replace yours, it is only collecting dust as it is."

He attempted a really bad pitch but Dee Dee managed to catch the phone anyway. "Sixth grade? But that's almost ten years ago!"

"I was bored one afternoon." Dexter shrugged. "What was I supposed to do, pre-algebra homework? At any rate, you will find it is still highly advanced for an electronic device from 2001."

"Advanced" and "2001" didn't even belong in the same _sentence._ Was this supposed to be some kind of joke? Dee Dee scrolled through the old-fashioned interface with growing dismay. "But...this doesn't even have the internet! Or a camera! Oh my god, you can't even text with this thing! I might as well use a brick!"

"Then by all means do so, Dee Dee! With any luck you will bonk yourself on the head and put us all out of our misery _._ Now _as usual_ this has been a lovely visit, your gratitude overwhelming, but perhaps for the final time you will do me quite a favor and GET OUT OF MY LABORATORY!"

Dee Dee blinked at the tiny pixelated screen. Wait a second. Did he just say...

"For the _final time_? What does that mean?"

Dexter let out a tremendous groan at the absurd question. "It means I am moving to the city tomorrow, where I will have access to research facilities far greater than my own. I have already had my most impressive devices and machinery transferred to MegaCorp storage should I require their usage later. You don't think I'll be coming back here, do you?"

Dee Dee felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs, like she'd been thrown across the cockpit in her giant robot. "What? You mean you're _never_ coming back to the lab? _Ever_?"

"That would be correct. In fact, these papers were the last thing I needed from my laboratory. If you had arrived a few moments later you would have missed your chance to say farewell. Although why you are surprised I cannot comprehend, you knew mother and father had listed the house for sale, and of course the lab goes with it."

No, she hadn't realized! Of all the people in the world, _he_ should know she wasn't that smart!

Hot tears welled in her eyes and she spun around, frantically searching for a glimpse of the familiar sights she knew and loved so well. His little workstation, with all his weirdo chemicals and his aluminum sheeting and nuts and bolts and favorite wrench! His Robo-Dexo 2000 and his Dexo-Transformer! His time machine! All the inventions, all the examples of genius he'd stored up and she'd explored for years and years! And she wouldn't even get to say goodbye!

She had to gasp to find her voice. "You mean you're just gonna leave the lab behind?" she cried. "After all the time we've spent in here together? All the fun we've had? You can't leave, Dexter! I haven't even figured out what half of these _buttons_ do!"

Dexter groaned again and shouldered past her on his way to the door, and for a minute Dee Dee could just stare in disbelief. How could he be so heartless? How could he care less about the lab than she did? It had been his whole life for his whole life!

"But what about Computer?" she argued, grabbing onto his lab coat so hard she wheeled him around and nearly pulled him off balance. "You would never leave - "

Dexter yanked a sleek tablet out of his lab coat pocket, emblazoned with his usual fancy "D" logo, and shoved it close to her face. "I guess you weren't paying attention when I transferred Computer's OS to a mobile version two years ago, were you? The floor unit is merely an empty, obsolete shell." He plucked his sister's hand off his pristine lapel. "This is no time for your usual female hysterics, Dee Dee. Exactly the scene I was trying to _avoid_. Surely you realize that I cannot remain trapped in my childhood laboratory forever! My genius has long outgrown the confines of its walls. There is a new world of opportunity awaiting me at MegaCorp, and to cling to the past when the future is so bright would be –" he searched for just the right phrase – "the epitome of stupidity."

Dee Dee couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. So maybe it was stupid. So what? She still felt it! Dexter's laboratory. Shut forever! It didn't make any sense!

"So you're just going to leave it here?" she snapped. "You might as well tear it down. Maybe I'll do it. It doesn't matter if it's destroyed now, does it?"

Dexter rolled his eyes so hard it looked as though it would cause him physical pain. "I am going to leave it in its untouched state as a tribute to my intellect. Perhaps in future, when I have become a world-famous genius, my admirers would like to convert it into a museum. Considering I am a scientist and not a psychic, however, I'm sure I cannot say."

He only ever thought about himself, all the time. Why was she still surprised?

"You weren't even going to tell me, Dexter," she whispered. "You're awful."

"And you are a sentimental fool. But we already knew that, didn't we?" He picked up his black briefcase full of ideas and tested the weight with his arm. Then he consulted the screen of his tablet, bringing up Computer's familiar interface at the sweep of a finger. "I admit, I did not expect to say my goodbyes to the laboratory with you by my side, but I suppose it is strangely appropriate. I could never keep you out before, and now the doors close on both of us. Computer," he spoke into the device, "identify Dexter by voice and retinal scan. Initiate Exit Protocol Omega on my command."

 _"Initiating Exit Protocol Omega."_

Dee Dee half expected an alarm or siren to go off, but there was silence. No, there wasn't. The laboratory was always so quiet when it wasn't exploding, but for the first time Dee Dee realized it wasn't quiet at all. There was always the whir of machinery, the soft little crackles of electricity that brought Dexter's inventions to life humming in the background. At the sound of Computer's voice, those machines began to shut down one by one, far away at first, and then closer until the only sound Dee Dee could hear was her ragged, tearful breathing. He was killing the lab. The lights on the ceiling flickered off until there was only one green neon sign left. "This one I will have to unplug manually," Dexter said, more to himself than to her, and briefcase in hand, he went to go pull the plug out of the wall. The lab went dark.

 _Maybe I can come back when he isn't here,_ Dee Dee thought as she followed Dexter out of the laboratory doorway and stumbled into the light of his childhood bedroom. _He'd never know._ She'd always had a way of getting into the lab, hadn't she? Why did that have to change once Dexter was gone?

"Computer, seal the laboratory."

Dee Dee watched as the bolted doors slid, slammed, and swirled shut before her, and she knew it wouldn't be the same without him.

 _"Exit Protocol Omega completed."_

Dexter waited for the bookshelf to slide into position. Then he turned to his sister. "So it ends, not with a bang but a whimper." He cleared his throat - his voice had cracked - before continuing. "Tears for the past are a waste of time, Dee Dee. The promise of the future beckons – why would you possibly be sad about that?"

She didn't know. But she was, though.


	2. Welcome to MegaCorp

**CHAPTER TWO**

 **Welcome to MegaCorp**

"Twelve."

"Again?"

Dexter grit his teeth, then twisted his mouth into an attempt at a smile. "Certainly, madam. That would be seven, three, nine, U, four, eight, dash, twelve. Would you like to see my ID?" Dexter slipped the lanyard over his head and held out the ID card for the secretary to see. "There it is. Right at the top. Or possibly…I could type it for you?"

No, no, he had to be patient. With significant effort, Dexter kept the smile plastered to his face. Could the woman even read? She certainly couldn't type. And she was the head secretary at the headquarters of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Great. _Just keep smiling._

The woman punched his employee ID number into the computer and returned his card before squinting at the screen. At least this wouldn't be a daily occurrence. Dexter knew they just had to get him authorized as part of the system, and once his personal information was transferred to the company databases then he could come and go as he pleased. Assuming they ever succeeded in the process.

At last the reflection of a white screen flashed up in the spectacles of the middle-aged woman. "Ah, there we go. 739U48, number 12, research physicist, Dexter…oh, it looks like they forgot to put your last name. Let me just key that into your file."

"Will that be all?" he ventured.

"Yes. Mr. Magnus will see you now. Please, step right in."

The helpdesk, a six foot-tall structure, slid aside on what Dexter presumed must be some invisible track on the floor, and a pair of automatic doors etched with a large, bold "M" swished open before him. This was it. With one steadying breath, Dexter clutched his briefcase in his hand and stepped into the office.

During his follow-up interviews Dexter had received a tour of the facilities, from the humble cubicle farms to the gourmet cafeteria to the tennis courts for the athletically-inclined, and best of all, the beautiful, state-of-the-art research laboratories. But he had never caught a glimpse of the executive office until now. It was very spacious. Dexter knew that it had been designed and furnished to appear even larger than it was. The gleaming white walls and tiled floors gave way to huge floor-to-ceiling windows at the far side of the room. Through the amber-tinted glass he could see they were at the top of Mega Tower, the other skyscrapers in his view of the city skyline practically dwarfed in comparison. Sky cars and taxis whizzed past the windows, and he could even see the commuter train streaking along on the monorail in the distance.

Within the office, however, Mr. Magnus was nowhere to be found. Tentatively Dexter took a seat in one of the two chairs placed in front of the CEO's desk. He wasn't sure if that was rude or not. He never had mastered those little social graces most people insisted upon.

He was pulling his Computer out of his pocket to check the polite protocol when he was distracted by the nameplate on Magnus' desk. It bore one word, "Executive."

Executive Chairman, CEO of MegaCorp and all its dozens of subsidiaries, the most influential corporation in the world. _One day._ _One day,_ he thought, with a premature beat in his heart, _that will be **me.**_

Somewhere a toilet flushed. Dexter blinked, adjusted his glasses, and looked around. A side door opened and a man in a light grey suit stepped into the office, wiping his hands on his jacket.

"Beg your pardon, my boy! I hope you haven't been waiting long!"

Mr. Magnus strode over to his leather desk chair and hopped up onto the seat. He pulled open a drawer in his desk and took out a polished wooden case. "Cigar? Oh, you don't smoke? Good for you. I can't get a thing done without a stogie in my teeth, don't suppose I ever will."

 _In that case, maybe I will be CEO sooner rather than later_ , Dexter considered as Magnus lit the cigar with a silver lighter and puffed it into action.

Magnus was a short man. Dexter had seen photos of him in all the top science periodicals, but apparently none of them had a reference for scale. His legs didn't even touch the floor, just dangled beneath his desk. Dexter couldn't help but feel a certain kinship, though. _Perhaps he'd like to sample some of my growth formula?_ He'd gotten most of the kinks ironed out in his own personal tests. Now there was just the sweating. And that weird mole. He probably needed to get that checked, actually….

"Well, Dexter, my boy – is it all right if I call you Dexter?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Magnus," he smiled, a genuine one this time. "Everyone does."

"Good to know! So, Dexter, how do you like it here at MegaCorp? Are they treating you ok?"

"Why, I have only been here an hour," Dexter hinted, "but my treatment thus far has been commendable."

Magnus paused and scratched at his thick moustache. "What part of the country did you say you were from?"

"I didn't specify, sir."

"Huh."

"I grew up not far from here," Dexter supplied, somewhat mystified. "In the suburbs. Just outside the city?"

"Oh. Never heard a suburban accent quite like yours before, I'll tell you that! But times they are a-changing and we gotta change with them." He tapped the ashes off his cigar and leaned back in his chair. "We're certainly glad to have you here, Dexter. Two doctorates, and a world-renowned physicist at _your_ age! I'm sure you know there aren't a lot of smart young men to go around these days."

 _Tact. Tact._ Dexter cleared his throat. "Yes, the sciences are, sadly, somewhat overlooked these days. A true shame."

"And I bet there aren't many that'd give you a run for your money, either."

"I doubt you could find even one, Mr. Magnus."

Magnus took a draw at his cigar again. "Well, we've come pretty close. That's why I called you in for a chat today, Dexter. You see – oh, there he is! I was wondering where you were, boy!"

"My deepest apologies, sir," Dexter heard a voice behind him whine. He instantly gripped his chair until his knuckles were white. "I hope you can forgive my tardiness, it was certainly no fault of my own. These cab drivers, you know, they simply have no regard for... "

 _No. No._ _Not here, no, for the love of Einstein, **anywhere** but **here**!_

"I believe you two have met." Mr. Magnus glanced back and forth between the two supergeniuses, both on their feet, grim faces only inches apart.

"You could say that," Dexter managed through clenched teeth.

Mandark was equally confounded, but was evidently unable to produce a single sound.

At a gesture from the executive, Dexter returned to his seat, while Mandark threw himself into the empty chair next to his. _Unacceptable. Must he plague me my entire life?_

Dexter forced himself to pay attention to Mr. Magnus' words. He knew he would betray his disgust if he looked his employer in the eye, so he stared at the crown-shaped pin on his lapel instead. "…two brilliant minds, our research division will be thrilled to have you on their team. You are both starting out as senior research physicists, thanks to your excellent educations. It says here you are both W.I.T. alumni?"

"Yes," Dexter and Mandark said at once, both sounding strangled.

"If I understand correctly, you were also joint valedictorians in your graduating class?"

"Yes."

"Ah! Then you should be perfectly used to one another's company, which will work out very well, since you'll be sharing an office."

It was all Dexter could to do keep from bounding up, knocking his chair across the room and protesting the suggestion with utmost revulsion. Fortunately, he was saved the effort as Mandark jumped to his feet instead. "Share an office! Withthis…this…" he struggled to find an insult. "This _colleague_?"

Dexter bit his tongue hard. Yes, let Mandark make an idiot of himself. He could still achieve his own objective through the other's impudence. He just needed to preserve his composure.

Mr. Magnus stood, his bushy brows contracted in the beginning of a frown. He was probably two feet shorter than Mandark, but Dexter could see the gangling fool was clearly cowed, and he sat down without another word.

"You boys may be scientific geniuses, but you are still _boys_ , and you are still on your trial period here at MegaCorp. We know you've got the brains to work here, but we have to make sure you've got the _stuff_ too." Magnus paced behind his desk. "For your first three months on the job, you will share the office, as senior research physicists. _However,_ after that point, you will each have the opportunity for promotion to the head of the department. That's only _one_ opening, mind you."

Dexter could hear Mandark's hurried breathing, and hoped his rival couldn't hear his.

"Your job is to design and test new technologies for the betterment of the future, so in three months, in addition to your regular work, I want you to bring me an idea that will knock my socks off. Something that the corporation – and the world – has never seen before. _That_ is how you will move up in this company. Till then, you'd better not let your egos get the best of you. I know you brainiac types. Sometimes you have smarts, but not sense, and that will never do."

"No sir," said Dexter, and Mandark immediately echoed, "No sir, that would _never_ do."

The executive broke into a smile behind his moustache. "Good, that's what I like to hear! Now get out of here, both of you. I know you're jumping to get started on your work!"

He offered his hand. Dexter shook it and Mandark pumped it up and down, then he ushered them both out the great sliding doors.

Dexter held his head high as he passed the secretary at the front desk, kept walking without a word, made his way over to a convenient watercooler with great dignity, then whirled upon his archenemy.

 _"You_." They locked eyes again, each young man sending out a deadly laser glare from behind his glasses.

"I thought I was rid of you for _good_ ," Mandark spat. "But you just _had_ to follow me here to my new career, try to one-up me the first chance you _got_!"

" _I_ follow _you_? Keep dreaming, Mandark. We know which of us has the hopelessly derivative work, the one that imitates his superiors at every possible opportunity!"

"Yeah, you just make crap up and everyone's supposed to worship you, supposed to go right along with it, is that how it works? Let's see how long you last with _that_ method. Research physicist, ha! You've never done research a day in your life!"

"Remind me exactly _when_ was the last time that _you_ gave credit for work that clearly belonged to someone else?"

"Don't you start with me – "

"I start nothing, but I guarantee I _will_ be the one to finish – "

"Um…excuse me?"

 _"What?"_ Dexter and Mandark simultaneously snapped at a small man who was timidly pointing toward the cooler.

"C – can I get some water?"

"Oh. Sure."

The coworker plucked one of the paper cups from the dispenser. They all watched as drops of water trickled from the jug.

"So…are you guys new here?"

"Yes."

"Hm…that's nice. I've been here 25 years this Friday. I'm going to get a commemorative watch."

"Congratulations."

The little man sipped from the cup while Mandark and Dexter glared daggers over the top of his head. He smacked his lips, wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and stammered, "So, uh, welcome to MegaCorp!", before making his escape.

Dexter smoothed the stiff starched cotton of his new lab coat with one hand. He'd discarded his favorite Howie coat for something more presentable in the corporate world, and settled for a generic three-pocket model with lapels, since his normal attire suggested he was a scientist of the unstable variety. Mandark was not going to make him lose his carefully orchestrated credibility. "Listen, Mandark, we must stop this bickering at once."

"Right, like I'm going to take orders from _you_ – "

"I'm serious." Dexter stamped his foot. "If we keep on in this way, neither of us will succeed here at MegaCorp. As Mr. Magnus said, when I signed onto the job, I intended to work for the betterment of the future and I _assume_ you did the same."

"Of course!"

"Then I propose we make…the _best_ of this inopportune situation, and allow our rivalry to heighten our efforts, rather than allow it to be our downfall as it has threatened in the past."

"What a noble proposition. But don't underestimate yourself, Dexter. I'm certain any mistakes you make will be entirely your own." Mandark filled up a cup of water and tossed it back. "Now _I_ am going to go find my office."

Their office was located in the corporation's research department, not far from the glorious laboratories. It was moderately sized, fitted out with two desks, two computers, two ergonomic desk chairs, and four beige walls with large glass visibility panes.

Mandark sprang for the desk on the right, but Dexter could tell it was easily the inferior model and settled at the desk on the left. There were two plaques on the door – "Dr. Mandark Astronominov, Ph.D, Sc.D" read one, while the plaque above showed Dexter's own name and titles. Very proper. Dexter focused on his plaque until Mandark's almost disappeared from his vision.

 _It doesn't matter_ , he reminded himself. _I_ _won't be here long. In three months I will be able to harness the power of my Neurotomic Protocore to improve the lives of the uneducated masses across the globe, and I will instantly be catapulted up through the corporate hierarchy. With the power of the core in my hands, MegaCorp and the world will wonder at my genius. It won't be long._

He pulled out a mechanical pencil, a straight-edge, and a sheet of drafting paper. For now, it was time to get to work.


	3. The Theory of Relatives

**CHAPTER THREE**

 **The Theory of Relatives**

"Hi Mee Mee. This is Dee Dee…again. Listen, I was just calling to see if you and Lee Lee wanted to hang out this weekend. We could have a girls' night, go out for drinks, it could be fun! Anyway, um, call me back when you get this message, okay? Love you, bye!"

Dee Dee frowned at Dexter's ancient phone. Maybe her messages weren't going through. _Or maybe they are just too busy._ No, friends always made time for each other. That's what made them friends!

"Teacher, teacher, am I doing it right?"

"Just a sec, Suzie!" Dee Dee left her phone on the bench and hurried to the other end of the studio. Suzie was attempting fourth position, but it was looking a little more three-and-a-half. "Ooh, you're pretty close, sweetie! But your foot's not turned out enough." Dee Dee knelt and gently twisted her student's foot into the right angle. "See? That's how it's supposed to feel. Watch me, can you do what I'm doing?"

Dee Dee assumed the correct position, feet turned out and arm held high. She smiled as Suzie tried to copy her pose. It was funny, she'd been doing these steps for so many years she sometimes forgot how hard it was when you first started out. "Now you've got it! That's great!"

Dee Dee clapped her hands and Suzie beamed. She paced up and down the classroom, checking each girl's movements at the barre. "In fact you are all doing great, but that's because you've been practicing!"

"Miss Dee Dee!" Mary raised her hand, jumping up and down. "Miss Dee Dee, can we dance in "The Fanciful Unicorn" now?"

"No, sweetie, the winter recital is for the older girls. But soon you'll be able to dance in a recital too, I promise! Now girls, we are going to stretch to make sure we loosen up all our muscles." Dee Dee wiggled her arms and the ballerinas giggled. "See, like this!"

Dee Dee sat on the floor and began to lead the afternoon class in their cool-down exercises. She glanced at the clock as she stretched her arms over her head. 4:25. Perfect. She could make it by 5:00 if she hurried! Out the window she could see some of the moms already landing their station wagons at the curb. She wondered if their cars smelled like Lysol – her Mom's always did.

"Girls, that was another great class!" she announced when they had finished. "I'll see you all again on Thursday, okay?"

"Okay Miss Dee Dee! Bye!"

She made sure to wave at every pupil before shutting the door to the studio. She toweled the sweat off her face and did a little improvised dance over to the stereo to cut off the sound. The studio seemed so lonely with all her young favorites gone, but her 4:00 class was her last one of the day. She decided she would straighten up the room later. Right now she needed to change, _fast_ , so she wouldn't miss the bus!

She jogged up the old flight of stairs to her apartment, three small rooms right above the studio. It was here where her teacher Miss Twinkleton used to live when she was the instructor at the dance school, back before the city had been built up all around it. Dee Dee had a feeling Miss Twinkleton kept stuff a little more organized, though. All her clothes from last week were still scattered across the living room.

"It looks like a bomb hit." Dee Dee jumped over a couple of shopping bags to get to her favorite top, draped over the back of the couch. Victorious, she found the matching pedal-pushers too. They were covering the remote to her dinky old flatscreen, so she switched the TV on for background noise while she took a lightning-fast shower.

Fifteen minutes later Dee Dee hopped out of the bathroom, tugging on her shoe. She hopped over to the kitchen counter where she'd left her hairbrush, ignoring the one opened envelope in the pile of junk mail and celebrity magazines. The one that said her rent was going up. Again.

She'd given up her dream of becoming a prima ballerina a long time ago. So much discipline sucked all the life and fun out of dancing and besides, carbs always went straight to her hips. She'd never thought she could teach anybody anything, but guiding her little ballerinas meant the world to her. How much longer would she be able to hang onto the studio, though, if her rent kept rocketing through the ceiling?

"Maybe I should have stayed in school," she sighed, sounding like a TV commercial or something. She held one elastic in her teeth as she tied up half her hair with another band. "Then I could have made some money. Or maybe I need a rich boyfriend. Yeah, that's it! I need a rich boyfriend who will sweep me off my feet, just like in the movies!" It was a fun thought. Too bad most rich guys were also super old and gross.

Dee Dee checked the clock again. Ten minutes till five! If she ran she could make the bus stop just in time!

She grabbed her keys, locked her door, then grabbed her phone on the way out before dashing into a full sprint once she hit the street. The bus stop was about a half-mile from the dance school. If she hadn't crashed her last car - oh, but she'd always had a lead foot, they all knew that.

She ignored the looks of the passersby and her urge to perform a victory dance as she arrived at the bus stop without a minute to spare.

And promptly realized she'd left her bus pass at home.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry…." She rooted in her pocket for the fare before delivering it to the driver in mostly dollar bills and nickels. She was going to have to remember those cards. The city had almost phased out real money for electronic and then she'd really be in trouble.

Dee Dee edged down the aisle to take a seat at the back of the bus. She looked out of the window at the people walking by, until suddenly they dropped out of view as the bus lurched into the air. Up, up, up it climbed as it merged with the traffic in the skyway, and took off toward the business district in the center of the city.

In the old days Dee Dee would have struck up a conversation with anyone who looked friendly but, as always, everyone on board had their faces glued to their smartphones. She wasn't sure whether she should pity them for missing out on real life, or feel jealous that their phones were in one piece. "He could have fixed it. He didn't even try." She pulled hers out of her pocket - no messages. _At least I have a little piece of the laboratory to keep,_ she thought. _That's better than nothing._ Dee Dee huffed her bangs out of her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane. Maybe the bus was sitting still and it was the city zipping by. Dexter always said that was the theory of relativity.

M, M, M. On the smartphones, on the sky cars, everywhere she looked she saw the same logo, a black M trapped in a black circle. A big billboard advertising the new MegaCorp television sets ran past the window. Another bus passed them: "MegaCorp means the future," read the ad on the side, complete with beautiful smiling lady. And then there was the ad that sold Dee Dee her own phone, ten-feet tall on a holographic billboard. "You're nothing without your number!"

Dee Dee peered into the distance. It was almost like Mega Tower was keeping watch over the city, she thought, the tallest building the eye could see, its two sharp points stabbing into the clouds.

-X-

She could see him through the window, head bent over his work, even though it was almost time to leave. Dee Dee would never understand how he could just totally lose himself in whatever he was doing at any time. Didn't it ever get lonely?

The door was open so she poked her head in and rapped on the frame. "Knock knock, little brother!"

Dexter's head shot up so fast it was a wonder it didn't break off and sail across the room. "Dee Dee? What are you _doing_ here?"

"Maybe the question should be what are _you_ doing here? It's five-thirty already! _Hey!_ "

He had blasted up from his chair and yanked her into the office. "Quiet! People are trying to _work_ out there! Guests aren't even allowed in the research department, how did you get in here?"

He ran his purple glove through his hair. He didn't look happy to see her, not like she'd expected. Dee Dee began to think this might have been a bad idea.

"Margie has a younger brother too," she said, as explanation.

"Who the hell is Margie?"

"The lady at the front desk, duh! Didn't you read her tag? She said if I gave her my phone so I couldn't take pictures she would let me in. Anyway, I was _going_ to walk home with you on your first day. I thought you might like some company, you're still pretty new to the city. But maybe I won't now that you're being so _mean._ "

"It is _you_ who wishes forcompany," he snapped. "I do not. _I_ have never appreciated your intrusions. And it is _certainly_ rude to interrupt people at their place of work, of all things! I hope you realize that what I do here is very important. I cannot be disturbed!"

"But people visit me at work all the time!" Dee Dee argued.

"Your 'work' is nothing more than glorified jumping jacks." Her brother folded his arms on his desk and thunked his head down in despair. "Besides, I am staying late tonight," his muffled voice said. "I have a great many things left to finish, you are only wasting both our time. Just go home."

Stupid Dexter! And she came all this way, too! Cheeks burning, Dee Dee looked around the office in embarrassed silence. Dexter's workplace was almost as messy as her living room. _I guess he's used to way more space than this_ , she reasoned. "Hey, who's desk is that?"

"Sign. Door."

Dee Dee turned to read the little gold plaques. "Dexter…Ph.D., and – oh _no._ "

"And for once, we can agree." Dexter raised his head out of his arms. "Here comes that matchless intellect now."

Mandark trudged toward the office with an armful of photocopies so huge it covered half his face. "Hey Dexter, next time you want to take out your insecurities on a piece of machinery, could you kick something other than the laser scanner? _You_ may produce inadequate little scribbles, but some of us have actual use for – "

Papers crashed all over the floor.

"Ok, Dexter, so if you're gonna stay late I guess I can just take off – " but Dee Dee knew there was no way she was getting out that door. Drool was dribbling out the corner of Mandark's gaping mouth and he wobbled where he stood.

"Deeeee Deeeee."

"Hi Mandark," she sighed. "Long time, no see."

"Five years, two months, and seventeen days since last we met. But who's counting?" He gave himself a shake and seemed to regain some of his senses in the process. His version of a debonair grin spread across his face. "You know, Dee Dee, we should get together sometime, to catch up! Dinner, perhaps?"

"I don't…eat dinner."

"Oh, then lunch! I work here, you know. This is my office."

" _Our_ office, remember?" Dexter stated.

"But not for long." She made a dash for the exit but Mandark slid his foot to block her way. "I am going to be getting a promotion, Dee Dee, very soon."

Despite his rival's contradiction, Dexter was obviously enjoying himself for the first time since she'd arrived, and Dee Dee shot him a dark look. "I really need to go. _Now_." She twisted around Mandark and ended up outside the office before trying one last time with her brother. "Don't stay too late, Dex, okay? You work too hard. You need to take care of yourself."

Dexter dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"Farewell, Dee Dee!" Mandark yelled after her. "Visit any time you like!"

Hot July air, heavy with the stink of the city hit her face at Mega Tower's ground level. She didn't have fare for the bus ride back. She'd have to walk home alone. But a walk was just what she needed to shake off her mood. If there was anything she hated, it was standing still. And being told what to do.

 _He can't just kick me out all his life. He's not in his laboratory now, and he's not the boss of me. I'll drop by whenever I want, whenever I feel like it. He'll learn to like it, too._


	4. Feedback

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 **Feedback**

A series of expletives and hurried motions jarred Dexter from his concentration.

"Ugh, not again." Mandark angled himself over his desk, pinching his nose with one hand and trying to fish a monogrammed kerchief out of his jacket pocket. Droplets of blood dripped down his lip and spattered onto his desktop. Dexter smiled and laced his fingers together.

"Ah, experiencing a recurrence of epistaxis, are we?"

"You catch on quickly." Mandark's voice sounded more impossibly nasal than usual under the clamp of his fingers on his nose. "Tomorrow we'll learn colors."

"It's like I keep telling you, Mandark, proper laboratory clothing should never be neglected. For twenty years, your greatest guard against radiation poisoning and chemical toxicants has been a pair of knee socks. No wonder your organs are finally suffering from exposure."

"Who says it's chemically-induced, genius? Maybe I've just got _allergies."_

"Perhaps. But you also happen to reek of noxious fumes, and I assumed it was for reasons other than cheap cologne."

Successfully staunching the flow of blood from his nostrils, Mandark cleaned himself up and adjusted his immaculate collar and necktie. "An intelligent man dresses for the position he desires, not for the one he is currently forced to endure. Haven't you heard? Besides, I'm wearing _gloves_." It looked like he'd ordered the ink-black articles from an adult website.

"And I wonder where you stole that idea?" Dexter snorted. "Mark my words, Mandark, one of these days you will breathe in just enough hazardous gas to render you totally unstable and unfit for work. In short, certifiably insane. I cannot wait."

"And on that day, you will come to regret your arrogance," Mandark swiftly returned. "I cannot wait."

PLOP. A greasy, stinking paper bag landed in the middle of Dexter's desk.

"I brought Thai food!" Dee Dee sang out, peeking her blue eyes over the top of the bag.

"You know there is a five star, gourmet cafeteria directly on the premises, do you not?"

"You don't want to go there. Scientists eat Thai food!"

Dexter regarded the sack with undisguised aversion.

"I _love_ Thai food," said Mandark.

Dexter proceeded to toss it in the wastebin. "Go away, Dee Dee."

"What are you working on today?" She just wouldn't give it up. Between his detestable colleague and his sister's constant disruptions, he felt like he was fighting his way through fourth grade again. It was not a feeling he enjoyed.

"I am working on some designs for Mr. Magnus," he surrendered. "Our presentation is in one week. As if it matters to you."

"Oh." Dee Dee lowered her voice and turned her back to Mandark, who appeared to enjoy the view. "Is it a secret?"

"Little success we'd have keeping secrets in _these_ confined quarters. It is not. I am currently developing a pair of audio auxiliary amplifiers that will bypass the ear canal to translate soundwaves directly into the cellular matter of the brain. It will aide in the understanding of foreign languages which is ever more important in our increasingly globalized society. If you will recall, my previous attempts at developing the same technology were somewhat...rudimentary." He showed her the drawing on his desk.

"But - those are just fancy headphones! That's so boring, Dexter! You'll never win with those!"

"If you are bored then go away. Simplicity is very respectable, a lesson _some_ people have yet to learn," he raised his voice.

Mandark was clipping two very large schematics to the lightboard for Dee Dee's benefit. "No clue what you're talking about. I'm just working on some concepts analyzing electrolaser technology for use in discharge photon ray blasters and remotely operated robotic defense initiators. Don't mind me."

"Guns and robots," Dexter scoffed. "Exactly in line with the corporation's typical product offering. Not."

"I doubt the United States military will be complaining. Or anyone else dealing with a pretentious jackass."

Dexter perceived Dee Dee's eyes glazing over, as expected. "There are no buttons for you to push, Dee Dee, and nothing for you to destroy, so this office can have little interest for you, so please honor my requests for privacy and leave me to my work."

"But I was going to eat _lunch_ with you – "

"I'm free!" said the other side of the room.

" – and you're always so _busy_." She stuck out her lower lip and he couldn't imagine what she thought that would achieve. He pointed to the door imperiously.

"Go or I will call security. Do not test me, woman."

"Hmph. Fine. If you're so busy I'll go. But I'm going because I _want_ to, not because you made me."

"Either way the outcome will be satisfactory. I bid you adieu _._ "

With a toss of her blonde pigtails (which looked completely absurd at her 23 years), Dee Dee stomped out and slammed the door so hard the windowpanes shivered in their casings.

Every day. It was every day now. In a way Dexter was astonished how many pretenses she had invented to justify her visits over the course of almost three months.

 _She only wants to spend time with you! She's not trying to be a bother._

Clearly the combination of the Thai food from the trashcan and Mandark's chemical vapors was making him faint. Dee Dee was a nuisance. It was a fact. She wanted to go where she wasn't wanted, an old theory that had been proven time and time again. She didn't really care. She only thought of herself.

But he wouldn't let her distract him when she was out of his presence. She could not invade his mind, and that was a consolation. He had far too much work to do, and not on some ridiculous decoy of a gadget. Headphones? The most elementary construct imaginable. Where it _was_ effective, though, was in encouraging Mandark to keep his own efforts restrained.

He sneered in the direction of his colleague's workspace. Guns and robots, bah! Mr. Magnus and his colleagues would never be impressed by something so unrefined. And that was the reason why Dexter stayed every night in earnest labor at his true inventions, the ones that would prove the power of neurotomics and the extent of his own genius to the world.

-X-

The Neurotomic Protocore. As a child, Dexter had created it for the simple satisfaction of knowing that he could, but he had soon learned that its energies, its ability to emit waves that affected the human mind, were unlike anything known to man.

It was not mind control. Mind control was the province of a villain, a power-hungry overlord which Dexter, of course, was not. No, society could only be improved by the positive influence of the Neurotomic Protocore, a source of energy that increased brain activity and joined the neurons in the mind to make thought and reason more complex than ever before. As he had grown from a boy genius to a teenager, he had delved deeper and deeper into the studies of neurotomics, discarding all other disciplines but those needed to secure his position as a premier physicist at MegaCorp, the country's largest conglomerate. He'd discovered that the waves emitted from the core could be harnessed, the flow controlled like a broadcast from a centralized location. So he had drawn up a system for directing the waves to the public, in order to enhance the weak minds of humanity.

After years of study, he had recently had yet another breakthrough. With the heightened intelligence the core provided, any average man could, after exposure to its waves, generate matter into physical form with the slightest mental concentration. In the blink of an eye a man could think of anything his heart desired and it would appear before him - teletronically. He knew the public would clamber at such a possibility.

After work each evening, Dexter and Mandark would silently part ways and leave for home in opposite directions. Then Dexter would double-back unseen toward Mega Tower and let himself into the research laboratory with his scan card. That was where the day's real work began. _Work_ , he often thought. Someone needed to invent another word for it. _This isn't any kind of work at all, it is a dream!_

There, he drew up and improved upon his plans – the centralized power producing pylon that would distribute the energy waves, the high-charge neurotomic fission reactor that would bring the core to its full strength, and the teletronic transference receptors that would make thoughts reality. The latter he had developed into a prototype, useless for the time being, but a good model for the product MegaCorp would soon be selling by the billions. It was all useless without its energy source, of course, hunks of lifeless plastic and metal. But it would not be useless for long.

He had developed a portable containment unit for the core, and he kept it on his person at all times. Safely ensconced in the laboratory, he could take it out of its casing, feel the energy radiating warmth into his hand as the subparticles twinkled along their orbits.

 _Universal wisdom, peace, and harmony. All are finally within reach. They will thank me._

Sometimes, late at night, something told him to destroy it. He always ignored that voice, because he knew better.

-X-

"I'm going to walk you home!"

"I brought you lunch!"

"Wanna catch a movie?"

"I was just in the neighborhood…"

"You'll need an umbrella!"

"Mom said to keep an eye on you."

"It's National Take-Your-Sister-To-Work Day!"

After three months, Dee Dee was starting to run out of excuses. Sometimes she thought Dexter was finally starting to come to peace with her presence in the office. Sometimes she thought she was just making things worse between them. Sometimes she got mad that he could turn her away so easily. Most of the time she wondered why she was bothering with it at all.

 _I guess I'm just bored. Or maybe I'm….lonely._ Even though he was rude and bossy and way too tall now, he was still her baby brother. She missed him. Whatever it meant to Dexter, it was no secret visiting his office was the best part of her day.

Well, _almost_ the best part. For every excuse she found to talk to Dexter, Mandark found three more to talk to her. He'd extended every invitation that probably existed in the world, and it would have been flattering if he wasn't a total loser. How many ways could you say, "No, I don't want to go out with you"? Maybe she'd make Dexter teach her in French. Lately Mandark had been pestering her about a fancy new restaurant, Chez Ritz, that had opened on 99th Street.

Lucky for her, no one was in the office today. "They must be really busy working on their presentations," she thought, Mandark with his ray gun and Dexter with his lame headphones. Her brother was going to need some serious help if he wanted to impress his boss and get that promotion. Too bad his side of the office was such a wreck. Mandark kept his station weirdly tidy, but Dexter had old cups of coffee, lots of pens and papers, and funny mechanical tools scattered across his desk. How could he get any work done like that?

A lightbulb went off over Dee Dee's head. "He's always complaining when I mess up his stuff. If I help him tidy his office he'll _have_ to thank me!"

Dee Dee hurried over to his desk without another thought. She gathered his calculator, pens, and paperclips and tossed them all together in a drawer. She grabbed his scarf, thrown across the back of his chair, and hung it on a hook on the wall. She peeked into his styrofoam cups to see if any of them held fresh coffee, but none of them did, and they were all super weak. "He should drink black coffee if he wants to get anything done!" That's what she always drank. She dashed out of the room to get him some from the coffee maker, then placed the cup carefully on his desk. If she spilled anything on his papers he would _definitely_ kill her.

There were a lot of papers, too, and they all looked alike. Upon closer inspection Dee Dee found that some of them were reports, others were memos, and the big ones were drawings like the ones he'd shown her in his lab. She flipped through them until she had them mostly sorted into three neat piles.

She bit her lip and looked around the room. They would be safer in folders.

Dexter's desk had a big drawer at the bottom for files. She grabbed the first unmarked folder she saw and pulled it out, but was surprised to find it heavier than she expected. "That's weird," she murmured to herself. "It's full of papers." There was that hamster-ball drawing, and the hearing-aid thing, and some other pictures she didn't recognize. Was it supposed to be a secret or something? Why would he hide it in his office? She guessed that a supergenius like Dexter knew what he was doing, but if it was up to her she wouldn't put her important stuff right where someone else could take it. He'd been doing that since he was a kid.

She shook her head. "I better put this back, or he's going to be mad."

But the folder slipped out of her hand, spilling splashes of blue all across the floor.

She heard a Russian accent outside the door.

 _Quick, quick!_ Dee Dee ducked down on her hands and knees and scrambled to put the blueprints back in order. How many were there? Shoot, she didn't know. There was an extra one, it had landed under Mandark's desk! _There's no time to get it_ , her brain screamed, she could see Dexter's black shoes were walking straight toward her. She tucked the folder back in the open drawer and raised her head over the desktop with a great big nervous smile.

"Hi Dexter!"

 _"Dee Dee?"_ He rushed over to his desk and assessed the damage in one furious look. "What have you done? You've been tampering with my things! You know my workspace is off limits, what reason could you _possibly_ have to - "

"I've been helping!" she interrupted. "See? I hung up your scarf and got you some coffee. And I put all your papers together, too. Now your work will be a lot easier, and you can focus on your presentation tomorrow!"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. When he spoke his voice was level and hard. "I had everything where I _needed_ it, Dee Dee. Where's my ruler? The memo from this morning? Why is my coffee black?"

"So you'd stay awake better. It's all here, Dexter, just clean!" She couldn't understand it. Why was he mad? What had she done now?

 _Good thing he doesn't know about the paper._ It was still under Mandark's desk. Dexter sat down and began pulling things out of drawers and putting them where he wanted them. Maybe if she stretched her leg, and got it with her foot –

It was no use. Mandark sallied in, chomping on a chocolate donut, and spied her loitering on his side of the office. He instantly wiped the icing off his lips in case he was required to use them. "Why Dee Dee, what a pleasant surprise seeing _you_ here today! Your presence in this tedious place is always an unrivaled delight. I'd been meaning to tell you, there's a new restaurant on 99th, and I was wondering if you might like to – "

She knew she wasn't getting any French lessons today, English would have to do. "No, Mandark. I don't want to go out with you."

"You are busy. I understand. Perhaps another time, then," he smiled. "Perhaps after tomorrow you'll change your mind."

He meant after the presentation. Mandark's attention was almost worse than Dexter's rejection. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "I hope you get a lot of work done, Dexter," she offered quietly.

Dexter kept his angry glare on his calculator display. "More work than I previously anticipated, yes. Thanks to you." He didn't give her a second look. He could only assume Dee Dee was as capable as showing herself _out_ as forcing her way _in._

-X-

He had torn the office to shreds.

"Where is it? Where _is_ it?"

Dexter overturned the wastebin, scattering crumpled sketches and old coffee cups along the floor. He raked through the mess with his gloved hands. "Nothing. Not here." He kicked the trashcan aside. "Do not panic Dexter, remain calm." He breathed slowly in an effort to regulate his heartbeat and steady his mind. Where did he put it? It was not in the research lab, he had checked there twice already. Not in his file cabinet. Not in his wastebin. Not in the folder he'd specifically designated and left unmarked for just this purpose. Not where it was _supposed_ to be.

"How am I going to explain the foundations of the neurotomic distribution system if I cannot depict the high-charge neurotomic fission reactor?" It would seem like gibberish without the research to back it up, the ravings of a deluded fool at best and a madman at worst. And his presentation was only half an hour away; Mandark was in the conference room now, finishing up any moment.

 _Wouldn't the reveal of the core be sufficient on its own? Would Magnus be able to appreciate it for the unprecedented marvel it is?_ It didn't matter, that was not the _point_ , the point was he had had something and now it was gone when he needed it the most!

He sprang for Mandark's desk and yanked open the top drawers which, to his consternation, held only fun-size candy bars and bags of chips. He pulled open two other drawers, but everything was in order there as well. He plowed his fingers through his frizz of red hair. Mandark had it. He knew he had it. Mandark could never accomplish anything on his own and was horribly jealous and was always trying to steal his ideas at every turn and –

 _No_. No, he was all wrong.

Dexter shut up the drawers to Mandark's desk and returned to his own workstation. With trembling fingers he readjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew on his face. How could he have missed something so obvious? It was not Mandark, not this time. It was someone else's fault.

"Hiiii Dexter! I came to wish you good luck on your – "

"GET OUT!"

Dee Dee halted at the doorway. "What? I don't – "

"You did this. You did it on purpose!"

"Did _what?_ "

"You deliberately misplaced the blueprints for my high-charge neurotomic fission reactor!"

"N-no I didn't! I mean, well, it was an accident!"

Dexter reached the office door in three strides and Dee Dee backed up against it, looking guilty.

"An _accident?_ You just happened to _lose_ my most important and complex design the day before I required its use?"

"I didn't even know what it was, Dexter, I swear! It was just a drawing, right?"

He grabbed her shoulders and she winced at the grip of the rubber on her bare arms. "Do not insult me, Dee Dee! You know that _drawing_ was the product of years and years of careful work! You know that! But you don't care! You do not care what you destroy because you never stop to think! Perhaps you were angry because I closed the laboratory, hmm? I was finally free of your constant interference and you simply could not bear to let it go. Well you should be very happy, my entire career is in jeopardy and all because of you!"

"Dexter, how can you say that? I was only trying to _help!_ We can look for it, together, I'm sure it's here – "

"No, I don't want your help! You never do anything right! Everywhere you go, you only make things _worse!"_

Dexter's wildly gesturing finger was inches from her face when he felt her hands collide with his chest, and he stumbled backwards into the room. "At least I try to help people instead of acting like I'm the only guy on the planet!" she shrieked. "At least I know other people have _feeling_ s and that they get hurt! You don't care about anyone but yourself! You are nothing but a _selfish creep_!"

"I already told you to _get out!_ Get out of my office at once! Don't you understand what this means for me? For science? For the world? You have ruined everything I've worked for you stupid, stupid girl!"

Like a child, his sister's face crumpled, and she tore out of the room with her face in her hands. Heart thumping in his ears, it was only then he realized, on the other side of the glass panes, that every employee in the department was staring at him in utter shock.

He heard his name crackle over the office intercom. "Please report to Mr. Magnus' office - immediately."

-X-

There was no hope in holding it back, she had burst into tears before she made it out of the research department and was sobbing by the time she got to the ground floor.

Dee Dee managed to get to the bus stop, half-blind, and flung herself down on the bench with a sob that made every muscle in her body ache. She was only trying to show him that she cared. She wasn't trying to make him mad. He was so smart, how could he not understand? Why did he hate her so _much?_

The bus wouldn't arrive for another half hour, and there was no one nearby except for a few pedestrians who passed her without interest. She sat on the chilled metal bench for a long time before she heard footsteps approaching behind her. She was too numb to care or wonder who they belonged to. She knew without looking that they didn't belong to Dexter.

Mandark sat down beside her. "I saw the whole thing."

Dee Dee swiped traces of sticky tears off her face. "Good for you."

"I thought it was highly inappropriate. Completely inexcusable behavior." _Not that I'd expect anything else from a fool like Dexter,_ she finished for him. But he didn't say it.

First he was studying the cufflinks on his shirt, then he was looking right in her eyes and she didn't know what to do.

"For what it's worth, I think you are very smart, Dee Dee. One of the smartest people I know."

How did you respond to something like that? She had never had the practice. "...Thank you, Mandark," she said at last, her voice smaller than she expected. "I…really needed to hear that."

"Believe me, it's my pleasure."

Dexter's rival. She was sitting here talking to Dexter's rival, like a terrible sister.

But then…what did it matter? A little flare of defiance prickled in her chest. If everything she did was wrong, then she might as well stop trying. Might as well do whatever the hell she wanted.

"So, Mandark," she sniffled, "about that new French place…."

-X-

The office was cold and stark and white, and Magnus seemed taller than before, and Dexter could not remove his eyes from the crown-shaped pin on the executive's lapel. The stink of the cigar smoke made it hard to think, but he shot each apology out as rapidly as his accent would allow him to form the words.

"I'm very, very sorry, sir. I assure you, it will never happen again! I made it clear to my sister that her visits here are unacceptable and – "

"I know you did. The entire department heard you. Dexter, I believe you're smart enough to guess that you will not be getting the promotion."

"I understand, sir." Dexter clenched his jaw. He simply had to explain. Mr. Magnus would surely reconsider. "I realize I am unprepared, and so I cannot complete my presentation today, but if you would only allow me a little time I know I could – "

He jumped as Magnus brought his hand slamming down onto the desk. "It doesn't have anything to do with missing papers, or annoying sisters, or any other problems you want to create, Dexter. It has to do with _you_. Like I said, you're a brainiac, always letting your ego trip you up. MegaCorp may be at the forefront of science and technology, but we're also here to serve the public, to make our future better. No matter what skills and knowledge you bring to the table, at the end of the day you have to _care_ about people if you want to change the world. Why should I believe you are ready to be a leader in our company if you think so little of your own flesh and blood?"

"Mr. Magnus, please, you are very much mistaken! My inventions, the very idea I was prepared to share with you today, all are designed with an aim to improve our society! I am a good person, I only had a momentary lapse of judgement this afternoon and I am sure my reputation here can be repaired – "

"You love your sister, boy?"

The unexpected query stunned him into silence. "Do I – "

"Do you love your sister, boy?"

"I…don't understand the question."

"Should have been an easy one." The executive shook his head. "I'd worry a little less about your reputation and a little more about what really matters. Some things just can't be repaired."

With his thumb, Magnus pressed a button on the intercom. "Buzz him in."

Dexter felt the darkness of a long, lean shadow fall upon him in the light of the doorway. He didn't bother looking up, even though he heard Magnus' congratulations through the throbbing in his head, and the familiar sound of a triumphant cackle.

 _This is all Dee Dee's fault. All of it._ And he would _never_ forgive her.


	5. Into the Fire

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 **Into the Fire  
**

This was a bad idea. This was a _really_ bad idea.

Dee Dee huddled under the awning outside Chez Ritz' front doors, shivering in the cold October air. The minidress she'd chosen for such a fancy occasion was no match against a chill, and she was really wishing she had a sweater right about now. Some of the snooty people entering the restaurant in furs and diamonds gave her dirty looks and she shot them right back. So she didn't have a little black dress, so what? Pink was the new black, duh.

"Maybe I could just go home," she thought, trying and failing to rub some warmth into her arms. "He wouldn't even know. I'll just tell him I got a headache." That was what Mom always told her to say whenever she wanted out of something.

She had almost resolved to take off her heels and make a run for it when, to her disappointment, a taxi cab landed on the pavement and Mandark got out. Or rather the back end of him got out. The rest of him emerged a few seconds later, dragging a bouquet of roses out of the car. He adjusted his tie in his reflection in the cab window, and launched into some kind of personal pep-talk until the driver yelled at him to pay the charges and Mandark yelled back about his terrible driving.

He seemed surprised to find her there. His eyebrows shot above the rims of his glasses and disappeared under his bangs. "Oh, Dee Dee, how…punctual of you!" He cleared his throat, his face flaming red. "My god. You look so _beautiful._ Shall we go in?"

Dee Dee took his arm and buried her nose in the bouquet of roses as they walked inside. They were pink, and pretty, and smelled really nice. _I guess it's hard to mess up roses,_ she thought _. Even if you're Mandark._

She hadn't seen him since the day at the bus stop, when she'd been the one to suggest this whole thing. Was he as ugly as she remembered? She stole a quick glance at him while he checked on the reservations at the front desk. He wasn't _too_ hideous…except for the overbite. And the big nose. And the bowl cut.

This was a really bad idea.

The host guided them toward their table, and Dee Dee decided that Chez Ritz definitely lived up to its name. It glowed with the light of golden chandeliers, and the tables were covered with bright white cloths and real silverware. In the distance, a violinist played beautiful classical music.

"Do you like the song?" Mandark asked eagerly, hurrying to pull out her chair. "It is from Tchaikovsky's – "

" _The_ _Sleeping Beauty_. I know. I've danced to it lots of times."

"I wish I could have seen you. I'm sure it was an absolutely otherworldly experience."

Dee Dee squirmed behind her menu. "I guess. Dancing's always been what I loved the most of anything. Like you and science, I guess."

Mandark smiled. "I used to think science _was_ my only love. But now – now I'm not so sure."

The candlelight threw strange shadows on his face, like when Dee Dee used to hold a flashlight under her chin to annoy –

" _Garcon_!" Mandark shouted, hailing a passing waiter with a snap of his fingers. " _Garcon_! The lady and I are ready to order!"

 _We are?_ Dee Dee had barely looked at the entrees. She quickly scanned the menu. Holy cow, were those prices right? Were they in Canadian dollars or something? What the actual –

"Yes," she heard Mandark say, "a lobster plate for each of us. Don't keep us waiting." He slapped his menu shut and handed it to the man, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

Dee Dee used her menu to hide her laugh until the waiter snatched it away. Mandark sure did think he was hot stuff since he'd been promoted to Head of Department. He was dressed like he was on the red carpet at the Most Annoying Geek awards. His neck was squeezed into a high stiff collar, and his sharp black suit was almost as glossy as his hair.

"Have you ever eaten lobster, Dee Dee?" he asked, sipping at a goblet of water while they waited.

"My Dad always talks about it like it's the best thing ever, but I've never had it before."

"Ah. So this is…your first time."

Oh, that smarmy look just made her want to die! "Excuse me, I need to go powder my nose," she choked out, feeling like she was gonna puke at any second.

"By all means. Hurry back!"

Dee Dee staggered toward the ladies room and leaned against the marble counter inside. Ugh. Why was she doing this? Why was she even here with that total _loser_? She hated him so much! "I really _am_ an idiot," she groaned. "If he saw me now Dexter would just – "

Right. That was why.

She raised her face and stared at herself in the mirror. Blonde hair and dangly earrings and fake eyelashes reflected back at her. _If he knew you were out with his most hated enemy he would be furious. Mandark doesn't think you're stupid, does he?_

When she got back to her seat, there were two dome-shaped platters waiting on the table. "Smell that, isn't it delicious?"

With a flourish, Mandark whipped the cloche off his plate. Dee Dee carefully peeked under hers. Two little black eyes peeked out.

 _Oh no, I can't eat something that has a face!_ It was a whole lobster, a big red innocent bug nestled in a bed of lettuce. Weren't you just supposed to eat the tails? This thing had probably been swimming around a few hours ago! She tapped his hard shell hesitantly and wondered if he had a name. He looked like a Raymond.

They'd given her some kind of a nutcracker or something along with her meal, but Dee Dee had no clue what it was for until she got a look at Mandark who was expertly tearing his entrée to shreds. First he snatched the lobster off the plate and tore off each claw. Then he took his nutcracker and crunched into them to get to the meat. He snapped the lobster's back in half and yanked off the tail, then stabbed a fork inside, putting the little lumps of meat onto his plate. Now she really did feel sick.

Dee Dee picked at her salad, aware of Raymond watching her from the corner of her eye. Mandark gestured with his fork.

"Aren't you going to eat that?"

"Um, actually, I'm on a diet," she lied.

Mandark was obviously not. He had drips of butter on his shirt. "I don't believe in denying oneself any of life's pleasures," he said. "But would you like to send it back?"

"I'm fine. Why don't you eat it?" She passed her plate across the table and figured Dad was probably clutching his heart in pain somewhere.

"I suppose you wonder how I can afford all this," Mandark observed after a few more minutes of stuffing his face. "My promotion at the corporation was accompanied by a substantial increase in my salary as well." He dabbed at his mouth with the cloth napkin, then pulled out a small black rectangle from his jacket pocket, slashed with a bright red MegaCorp "M" on the back. "The newest model. It won't be released to the public for several months. I led the team that designed it. I'd like you to have it." Mandark handed her the phone. It didn't look like the one she'd broken. Hers had been white.

"Thanks, Mandark, but…I have a phone. I don't need this one."

He sounded confused. "But – the Generation M is superior to every model on the market. It is going to employ the personalized numbering system first developed by the corporation for its employees, and it stores thousands of gigabytes of information through the use of remote database technology. Photos, messaging, internet capability, it has it all!"

She managed a laugh. "You're a good salesman, but I guess I just like mine better."

For the first time, Mandark noticed her old phone lying beside her on the table. His eyes narrowed when he saw the trademark "D" logo.

"I'd think you'd want to destroy that after the way your brother treated you. It makes me angry just to think about his abuse."

" _Abuse?"_ she exclaimed, horrified. _"_ Mandark, Dexter has never been – "

"What else can you call it? He didn't hesitate to belittle and berate _you_ who should be his closest ally, in public no less! I daresay he has you convinced you are his inferior when certainly nothing could be farther from the truth. It is that arrogance which thwarts him at every turn. He would like to pin his failures on you, on me, on anyone else, but he only has himself to blame for where he is today."

Dee Dee folded her napkin into a tiny triangle. She felt like she should be arguing with him, but honestly, she didn't know whose side to take. "I don't want to talk about Dexter. Please."

"Nor do I. It would only spoil our lovely evening."

She unfolded her napkin and started folding it into an origami boat. She felt Mandark studying her from across the table, his eyeglasses glinting in the light.

After a silence, he said, "We should have something special to drink tonight. Don't you think? _Garcon! Garcon,_ please bring us a bottle of your finest champagne."

"Champagne? I believe monsieur would prefer a chardonnay, it pairs particularly well with –"

"Champagne! Now!" With a jab of his finger Mandark sent the man on his way, scowling at his impudence. He was a lot bolder than Dee Dee had expected him to be. It struck her that she really didn't know him very well. She was reminded of those goofy presentations at school - _you don't know him, therefore you cannot trust him..._

When the waiter reappeared he smacked a metal bucket down on the tablecloth. Mandark coolly wrestled the bottle free of the ice. "Sit back," he ordered, then popped the cork out of the bottle.

Dee Dee couldn't help but gasp as it shot across the room and foam poured from the bottle's neck. "It's just like in the movies!" she burst out, then covered her mouth when Mandark met her eyes with a smile. He carefully filled two slender flutes and handed one to her. "Oh, it's pink!" she breathed, seeing it clearly now in the glow of the candles.

Mandark held his glass aloft. "This long awaited evening deserves a toast. To the future!" He reached forward and clinked his glass against hers.

Dee Dee sipped the fragrant, fizzling drink before murmuring, "Why not. To the future."

-X-

She had barely finished her first glass and Mandark had already filled it up again. She drank the second and he was right on cue, almost like he was waiting for her. The bubbles tickled, and she drank _just one more_.

"This is fun!" she giggled, feeling a familiar warmth spreading over her from the inside out.

"Yes. Wonderful. How many glasses have you had?" Mandark asked.

"I think this is my fifth. Why?"

"No reason. And your body mass index would be approximately…?"

 _"Mandark!"_

"Right, right, my apologies." She frowned at him but he didn't pay attention, with his upturned eyes he looked to be running over calculations in his head.

"You shouldn't do math at the table," she said, reciting an old family rule. "Can I have some more?"

"We'll have to order another bottle. You've almost finished this one."

"Wow! You haven't even touched yours! Hey, you know what's another really good drink?" She drained the last few drops from her glass. "Chocolate milk and vodka."

"Mm-hm, very nice – did you say _chocolate milk and vodka_?"

Dee Dee nodded. See, she knew things! "Yep, we used to make them all the time, back when I had friends. Sometimes I still do on the weekends. They're the best. But sometimes I just drink chocolate milk. And sometimes I just drink vodka. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing." He looked a little pale. "You know, my dear, it is getting rather late."

Dee Dee checked her phone. "Oh, you're right, and I have to teach a class in the morning too."

"Good thing you have such a…hearty constitution, then." He sighed. "We'd best be on our way." He dashed his finger in the air in the direction of the staff. "Check please!"

They took a taxi back to her place, and even though she'd flunked math three times over Dee Dee knew the fare from 99th Street had to be insane. Mandark handed over his cash card without complaint, though, and accompanied her to her front door.

"So, um, thanks for taking me out tonight, Mandark." She squeezed her bouquet of roses in her arms. "It was…." She didn't really know what it was.

Mandark sprang to her assistance. "It was a lovely evening. Enchanting, intoxicating."

Dee Dee fumbled for her keys in her purse. The champagne buzz had worn off on the ride home and now she was ready to get in the apartment and get out of her two-sizes-too-small shoes.

She noticed Mandark had turned his gaze from her to the upstairs window. "That's where you live." It was more a statement than a question.

"Yeah," she answered, fingers closing over her keychain at last. "I guess you remember from when Olga took classes, huh?"

"Oh. Yes. Certainly. How else could I have known?" He paused, and his eyes were back on her. "But I've never seen it from the inside. Might I come in?"

Wow. _Why_ hadn't she expected that? He might be a nerd but he was still a _guy!_ _You are so so STUPID!_ Dee Dee looked from her date to her door and then back. She hoped she didn't show her panic on her face, but she knew she had to get out of this.Somehow.

"Um….I have a headache," she tried. He didn't look convinced. "I have to get up early. That rent bill isn't going to pay itself you know, especially not now."

Yay, he believed it. "You're not having financial difficulties?" Concern lined his face and she chattered on.

"Uh-huh. A few months ago my landlord jacked the price again. Honestly, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to afford this – this piece of junk!" Her key was stuck and she hammered at the lock while Mandark watched her in silence.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Sure, if you give it a good kick – "

"No, no. That's not what I meant."

What else could he mean _?_ "I am after all a bachelor, and I only expect my position to become even more influential in the coming months, so my compensation is more than enough to cover my own expenses and contribute toward yours as well."

 _Your rent. He wants to pay your rent._

"Say you'll think about it?" He had already taken out his monogrammed wallet and it went through her like an electric shock:

 _He's the rich boyfriend._

She hovered at the open door to her apartment, wishing someone would tell her what to do.

She could slam it in his face. She could invite him in. Or she could make him wait. She could do whatever she wanted. What did she want?

 _You know,_ she thought, _he's not that bad._ _He was polite all night. He's smart. It's like in the movies. It's like…he wouldn't hurt you, right? He wouldn't call you stupid._

But a little voice in the back of her head shrieked _, What are you doing? He's a liar. He's a creep! You don't need his money. You know better than this!_

Her little voice sounded a lot like Dexter.

She kissed him, hard, and made it count.

"Good night, Mandark. Same time next week?"


	6. Worse and Worse

**CHAPTER SIX**

 **Worse and Worse**

Dexter slammed the cup of coffee onto the desk in front of a pair of wingtip shoes.

"There. Your stupid White Chocolate Mocha Frappucino from your stupid overpriced coffee shop you insist on patronizing every thirty minutes via proxy. Drink the damn thing, I'm going back to work – "

"Ah ah _ahhhh_." Mandark shook his head, signaling "stay" with the point of a forefinger. He had recently abandoned the ludicrous wet-look gloves, although the change was hardly encouraging.

He delicately brought the cup to his mouth and took a sip. "Urgh! How do you manage to get a cup of _coffee_ wrong? Take it back." He slid the cup across the desk with a sniff.

Dexter didn't move. "Perhaps they gave me the wrong order."

"Sure, blame the barista. Didn't you read the name on the lid?" He pointed to the word written in black marker at the top and read it off slowly. "See? Maaandorrrk. Mandork. _MANDORK_?"

Dexter smiled smugly and ducked as the coffee came hurtling at him like a meteor, bursting against the wall with a spray of whipped cream.

"Is that any way to show your respect for your _employer_?" the Head of Department screeched.

"You are not my employer. You are my supervisor."

Mandark made a grab for the telephone. "Then why don't I give Mr. Magnus a ring and report your behavior, hmm? I'm sure he'd like to hear it. You _are_ on your probationary period, if memory serves."

Dexter bristled, but when Mandark was in the middle of one of his theatrical outbursts the most effectively galling way to respond was to remain unperturbed. "Do it. I'm sure he'd be interested to learn you send your top research physicists for superfluous errands while on the company clock."

Mandark smashed the phone on the receiver with a scowl. He straightened his tie and propped his feet back on his desk. His office was larger and his furnishings finer than the ones Dexter and he had shared. Yet his preening, narcissistic displays of power and wealth looked just as incredibly out of place as his own ridiculously outfitted person. Dexter stood his ground. He would not allow himself to be put down by this insufferable excuse for a scientist by any means.

His serenity restored, Mandark announced, "That will be all, Number Twelve. You are dismissed."

"Number Twelve? You will address me by my name," Dexter spat, "or not at all."

"The employee numbering system is so much more efficient, Number Twelve! But then you were never one for logic. You won't be able to protest much longer, at any rate. The release of the Generation M MegaCorp smartphone will bring the numbering system to the public. I expect to be promoted very soon for that particular stroke of genius."

"Promoted? For a remodeled smartphone? Bah."

"Well, not for that alone." His crooked teeth made him look wicked and deranged. "Just between you and me, I believe Mr. Jones is going to be...resigning any day now. As it turns out, he has been setting aside significant company funds for personal uses, _very_ unbecoming of a senior manager. I wouldn't be surprised to learn the Chief Technology Officer is equally imprudent."

Dexter shoved his tongue against his cheek. He crossed his arms and sent his most withering look barreling straight toward his rival. "Why do you tell me this? You are already immeasurably contemptible by your own merits, why do you wish to make yourself moreso by sharing your sordid machinations with myself?"

"Because I know there's nothing you can do about it. Who will believe you? You are lucky you have retained the position you currently hold. We all know your hopes for advancement were immediately dashed the day you _attacked your own sister_ in front of your esteemed colleagues."

Mandark was presently reminded of something. He reached for a picture frame on his desk and turned it around for Dexter to see. Dexter was stunned to find a happy, smiling face staring back at him, so stunned that he revealed his shock on his own face and sent Mandark into a cackle of hysterical glee. "Oh, you didn't know? She gave this to me on our four-month anniversary last night. Yes, it is such a _pleasure_ to see her smiling face - but then, these days, she gives me pleasure quite a _lot!_ "

Dexter stormed the desk so quickly Mandark's feet fell to the floor with a surprised thud. "What are you playing at?" Dexter snarled. "That is my _sister_. If you so much as harm a _hair_ on her head – "

"You'll what? What will you do?" Mandark sneered. "She hates you. She's finally seen you for what _I've_ known you to be all along: a mean, low, temperamental bully whose only thought is for himself. Have you even thought of her once until now? You are only invested in her welfare so long as it impacts your own aspirations, so don't come to _me_ with your heartwarming air of chivalry and expect it to be impressive."

"You will not hurt her, Mandark. You will not."

"No, I won't. I love her and she loves me. And there's nothing you can do about _that_ , either."

His face was so hideous, so confident and assured in his crimes, Dexter wished for all the world he could stamp it into oblivion with the heel of his Dexo-Transformer.

"That will be all, Number Twelve. Oh, oh, one more question. Stop."

Dexter gripped the door handle and turned, so tense with stifled anger and indignation he couldn't pry his fingers away. "What?"

"What would happen if you reversed the flow?"

The babbling idiot made no sense. "Reversed the flow?"

"Yes, if the sub-particles moved round their orbits in a counterclockwise fashion. What then?" At Dexter's hesitation he waved him away with his hand. "My attempts at reverse engineering a power source are not progressing at the rate I would prefer. No matter. I will find out soon enough."

Dexter didn't bother to decipher the fool's nonsense. He slammed the door and shut him up, and right then that was good enough for him.

-X-

 _"In other news, the business world was rocked today when Mr. Robert Brown resigned as Chief Technology Officer following the discovery that he had falsified several important documents in the company records. This is the second high-ranking employee to resign at the multi-billion dollar Mega Corporation in two months, after senior research director William Jones was arrested for payroll fraud, having embezzled thousands in company funds. Brown's replacement will be Dr. Mandark Astronominov, a renowned physicist who had just recently been promoted to – "_

"Computer! Shut that off!" Dexter barked.

 _"Powering down mobile television application."_ Obediently, Computer switched off the window with the midnight news, bringing up the image of her homescreen instead. The pixelated face of a woman flickered to life and asked, " _What is bothering you, Dexter?"_

"Who says anything is bothering me?" He swore as his straight-edge slipped, sending his pencil-marking careening off the side of his paper. He pushed the entire drawing to the back of the drafting table and sank his head into his hands. "Computer, run project conception database scan, N-1, for file ."

He watched as the tablet computer sorted through thousands of files in the space of a few seconds, the loading bar filling steadily until a red error message flooded the screen. _"Error, error, file not found."_

Dexter wasn't surprised. It was an idle hope. He had never loaded his more important designs for the neurotomic project into the system, lest some fortunate hacker found himself in possession of a ready-prepared system for world-supremacy.

He knew Mandark had acquired his schematics for the high-charge fission reactor. It was surely the only way he could have secured his promotion and subsequent advancements. _Just like Dee Dee to align herself with my most hated foe._ Now they could both collude against him if they wished. After the way she had treated him he expected nothing less.

He had worked nightly in an attempt to recreate his original designs, right down to the most miniscule detail. But he had finished the last drawing years ago and, as much as he loathed admitting it even to himself, there were just some elements he couldn't call to memory.

"Computer, run scan on MegaCorp security system interception," he mumbled.

 _"MegaCorp security interception already completed –"_

"Run it again!"

Computer obliged. _"Floor 57 research department laboratory facility cameras disabled."_

"All four of them?"

 _"Four cameras disabled in floor 57 laboratory facility."_

Good. They could not be too careful. The day he was sent out of Magnus' office in disgrace, Dexter had immediately removed all his files back to his tiny apartment well away from the corporation's premises. He knew Mandark would be after the others once he identified the design his pilfered document represented. He was very uneasy working in the laboratory now, with the possibility that someone might monitor his activity, but he had no other place to go to test the technologies required to reconstruct the reactor's design. If he had _his_ laboratory – but what nonsense was this? He had long ago come to terms with the painful fact that, if he ever hoped to make his mark on the world, he must abandon his childhood safehaven. There was no point in looking toward the past. He must use his current resources to the best of his abilities.

His drawings were safe at home, but he still didn't trust that he could leave the core anywhere but on his person. Dexter pulled the Neurotomic Protocore containment unit from his breast pocket and set it on the drafting table. Then he reached for his trusted wrench to screw the bolts free.

The core sparkled and glowed green, brighter than Computer's display or the stark fluorescent lights or even the city glare that shone into the room. It was a unit of pure energy, rivaled only by the stars feebly twinkling beyond the window in the great black sky.

Dexter knew his Computer did not have any other feelings than those practical ones with which he had programmed her, but he talked out loud to her anyway, just to stave off the strange loneliness he sometimes felt when it grew so late at night. "Computer, the powers of the Protocore will benefit all mankind. Once its energies are understood, every human being in the world will possess the ability to increase his intelligence to a level equaling and surpassing your own."

 _"How exciting,"_ the Computer responded.

Dexter placed the core on the desk, where it hovered lightly over the surface. He watched it move and spin for a moment, a peculiar tightness in his chest that he could not identify. Normally the sight of the core swelled him with pride and satisfaction, the zenith of his scientific achievements before him in physical form. Surely it could not be sadness he felt, watching each sub-particle move along its orbit –

"My god," he gasped. "My god, that's what the lunatic meant."

 _"What is wrong, Dexter?"_ Computer intoned, but Dexter shook his head, startled and unable to speak, and seized the core in his gloved hands.

"He knows. Mandark knows. He's figured out what the reactor is for, what it can do. Reverse the flow? A hypothesis at this point, certainly, he said it himself, his own trials thus far have been unsuccessful…"

Computer was unable to parse her creator's incoherent ramblings, so she dissolved into standby mode as Dexter began a series of furious calculations on the laboratory whiteboard.

The sun had risen by the time he had finished. His calculations spilled onto both sides of the board in blue and orange marker, and covered the back half of a sheet of drafting paper besides.

It needed to be tested. He had to make sure his calculations were correct, for a scientist made no assumptions without solid proof.

But if the meaning hidden within the numbers and symbols on the whiteboard were true – Dexter staggered back, pale and exhausted. If the flow of the core could be reversed, the results would be cataclysmic.

\- X -

Dee Dee shouldered open the door of her upstairs apartment and proceeded to drop all her boxes and shopping bags around her feet. Her front room was filled to the brim with roses.

The warm August air, trapped in the room with no air conditioner, brought the full fragrance of the flowers surging out of the blossoms. She shoved aside twelve bouquets to clear a path to her couch, then sat down to read the card. If she couldn't guess who had splurged for the indoor greenhouse, the gigantic "M" on the card would have tipped her off.

 _I cannot wait to see you tonight, my golden-haired angel. I have a surprise for you, my love, and I am filled to bursting with the anticipation of sharing it with your beautiful self._

 _Breathlessly counting the hours,_

 _\- Mandark_

Dee Dee slumped forward, flipping the card back and forth. She tucked it back into the nearest bouquet, careful to avoid the prick of sharp hidden thorns. For all its beauty the place smelled like a perfume counter and it was making her dizzy.

Ever since he'd been named the corporation's vice chairman – "the youngest one in the company's history!" he'd proudly announced – Mandark had been lavishing her with more and more expensive demonstrations of devotion. One weekend it was a trip to France in the corporate jet. She had seven pairs of diamond earrings, all in different colors. Her birthday celebration was so huge it made the tabloids.

And Dee Dee was growing more and more convinced she was going to have to break up with him.

"It was okay when he offered to help me with my rent," she told herself. "But it wasn't like I thought it would be. I'm sure tons of girls would love to be treated like a perfect princess. But it's just too much."

She would finish teaching her classes in the afternoon, check her phone at the bench, and have twenty voicemails waiting, all checking on her and missing her and proclaiming his undying love.

And she'd play them back and think, "But I don't love you."

It was nice for a while, being swept off her feet, but it wasn't nice to lead someone on, even if he was rich and smart and crazy about her. She never should have started this in the first place. It had to end.

She'd pulled her hair up in two buns and was wearing sweatpants and Uggs. When she answered the door, Mandark was in full on evening-wear mode, from his silk oxblood tie to his 18-karat cufflinks to his shiny wingtip shoes she could see her half-hearted smile in.

"Ah. Excellent. Fifty dozen, just like I specified. It is so encouraging when someone gets something _right_ for a change."

He strode over to the couch, admiring the cloud of pink flowers as he went. Dee Dee headed toward the fridge. "You want something, Mandark?"

"Yes," he called from the living room, "but it's not in the refrigerator, my darling."

She plodded back into the room with a bottle of root beer in her hand. She plunked it down on the table without drinking any. Little beads of condensation ran down the sides like tears.

"Mandark," she said, at the same time he cried, "Dee Dee!"

"Sorry, you first," she said. She had a feeling he would go first anyway. He grabbed her hands and locked her gaze into his.

"Dee Dee, my own," he breathed, "these past nine months, seventeen days, twenty-two hours and fifteen minutes have been the happiest ones in my life. We've shared so much together, it is as though I've been reunited with a part of my soul that had been savagely torn from me I know not when. We are still young, I know, and I would never wish to rush things between us, even though I think we both know how our story shall ultimately conclude. But, my love, I want you to have – "

 _Oh god don't be a ring,_ she prayed.

" – This."

It was a key. She burst out laughing in relief. "Oh gosh, you had me worried there, Mandark!"

"Worried?" He frowned.

"Nothing, nevermind." She took the old-fashioned key, puzzled. "But what is this for?"

The smile returned to his face and he gripped her hand again. "It belongs to my new penthouse, Dee Dee."

"A penthouse?" she gasped. "Like on top of a skyscraper? Seriously?"

"An ordinary apartment is no place for an extraordinary individual. The view is astonishing, Dee Dee. You can see the entire city skyline. The front room is bigger than all the ones in this hovel combined. It even has a hot tub. You'll love it."

"Wait, what?"

"The key is yours." He closed her hands around it. "You have the key to my heart, so you should have the key to the penthouse as well. I want you to live there, with me."

The cold metal bit into her hand. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Mandark, I actually have something for you, too." She left him frowning on the couch while she went to get her purse. When she came back, she handed him a stack of bills. "It's not digital money, I know. And it's not a lot. I promise I'll get to the rest to you eventually. I mean, I can give it all back, the gifts and everything. But I wanted to start with this."

He flipped through the bills, eyebrows drawing lower and lower over his dark eyes. "What _is_ this, Dee Dee?"

"Um, it's this month's rent payment. The part you paid for, at least that's what the bank said – "

"But what is it _for_?" He smacked the stack of bills down on the cushion and stared at her.

"Mandark, I'm sorry. I'm breaking up with you."

He was on his feet in an instant. " _You_ are breaking up with _me_?" he repeated in a tight voice.

"You've been so nice to me Mandark, so thoughtful. We've had some really fun times. It just isn't fair for me to keep leading you on like this when you want...so much more."

"I don't understand. I don't understand. Is this not enough?" He waved his hand around the roomful of roses, voice trembling. "Have I done something wrong? Have I not shown you how I care for you? How I think about you every single hour of every waking day – "

"It can't be _every_ hour," Dee Dee said. "You work a lot, you know."

He was pacing, back and forth and back and forth, pant legs slapping around his ankles. "This can't be happening. After all this time...you say you've been leading me on. _Leading me on?_ " he shouted. "Then – this was all a game? Did this mean _nothing_ to you?"

"Come on, Mandark, please – "

And then he was in her face, backing her into the corner of the couch with the weight of his long arms and legs, his black eyes pleading and insistent and searching over her, and he was pulling her hands away every time she struggled to push him off.

"Do you mean," he gasped, "to tell me, that every time you kissed me, and every time you touched me, and every beautiful moment we shared together meant nothing to you? Is that it? _Is that it?_ "

"Mandark, _stop_ \- "

"I've loved you for so long and you don't care," he had her pinned, "and you never cared," he kissed her deeply, "but you _will_ care – "

And in three seconds he was off the couch and flying through the air and flat on his back with all the wind knocked out of his lungs.

"What the hell was _that_?" Dee Dee screamed in fury.

"W-what the hell was _that_?" Mandark wheezed faintly from the floor.

" _THAT_ was Free Judo Lesson #5, you moron! I trained for six years with Master Smith in the small building on Main Street, the one with the green door across from the bus station next to the Chubby Cheese, and I got my freaking _black belt!_ Now get the hell out of my house!"

"Apartment."

 _"Whatever!"_

"I'm very sorry," he whimpered. "I don't know what came over me – "

"Your weird sicko power fantasy came over you, that's what!" Dee Dee roared for all the world to hear. Mandark scrambled to an upright position and backed into a dozen roses. "You thought you could buy me off with all your bigshot money, didn't you? _Didn't you?_ Well you don't own _people_ , Mandark, and you can't buy _love!_ "

"You sold yourself easily enough," Mandark hissed, rising to his feet.

 _"What?_ "

"You wanted me when you had nowhere else to go, Dee Dee, when you had no one else to turn to. You're not stupid, you knew exactly what you were doing. Humiliate me, if you must. I loved you with all my heart. But I won't make the same mistake twice. Next time I'll hire a _professional_."

She threw the bottle of soda at him but he stepped out of the way unharmed, adjusting his tie and replacing his glasses on his face. "You may say this is over, Dee Dee – "

"It IS over!"

"But it's not. Things are changing. Plans are coming to fruition. You had your chance. You'll see."

He shut the door behind him. Dee Dee felt a pain in her hand and realized she'd been gripping onto his key the entire time. She flung it at the door where it struck the wood and clattered against the floor. It was only then that she noticed there was something else there too, besides the key and broken soda bottle. It must have fallen out of Mandark's pocket when she flipped him.

She walked over and picked it up. It was a heavy plastic rod, with a button on one side and some kind of port on the other. Out of sheer habit she punched the button.

A ray of red-orange light snaked out the end of the gadget, snapping and crackling and curling around itself as it uncoiled like a great centipede. It was a whip.

Dee Dee panicked and dropped it on the ground where it lay, writhing, before automatically powering down and fading into nothing.

She backed away from the horrible weapon, sank down on the floor in a crush of roses, and cried and cried and cried.

\- X -

The August air was warm, but Dexter barely noticed it despite the thickness of his gloves and heavy lab coat. The city bustled with activity even at so late an hour, but as he made his way out of Mega Tower's front doors he was buried deep in thought.

Four months of experiments, tests, and simulations, and the truth was clear. There was no denying it, not any more. _It is a danger. All your work, all your studies, all that you invested in since your childhood can be turned on its axis with the flip of a switch, and reduce mankind to a raving, babbling, imbecilic race. You cannot protect it, cannot keep it out of evil hands. The papers and files and the source of power itself, all must be destroyed._

"But - I cannot do it tonight."

The electronic melody of his ringtone sang out in his pocket. " _She blinded me with science, she blinded me with **science** …"_

He brought the smartphone to his glasses, read the name on the display, and moved to silence the call, when the song was drowned out by the sound of hysterical screaming.

Cars honked and alarms blared, people shouted, someone was on all fours vomiting up their guts, still Dexter pushed onward to the source of the calamity. "Oh god! Oh my god! Oh my god he's dead!"

Someone needed to shut the woman up. There was a gap in the crowd and without the obstruction Dexter stumbled into the clearing. Faces were looking up into the sky, up to the uppermost levels of Mega Tower, but the building's twin points were hidden in the darkness of the night.

Dexter didn't look up for the cause, he looked down at the results - and saw a broken body, a burst of blood and brains, and a crown-shaped pin clinging to the shred of a lapel.


	7. At All Costs

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **At All Costs**

Reporters swarmed the pavement at the base of Mega Tower. "Sir? Sir? Do you work here? Can we get a comment? What do you believe happened to the company CEO? Sir?"

Dexter heaved the cameras and insipid journalists out of his face, his features set in his most determined glower. He hunched his shoulders against the onslaught as he moved toward the doors at the front lobby. He felt like an amoeba in a petri dish.

He hadn't slept in thirty-six hours – his brain was too foggy to recollect the number of minutes. He remembered the police sirens and ambulances screeching up to the scene of the accident, and being whisked away to provide a statement at the city's police headquarters from which he had just now been released. It was all horribly inefficient, taking at least three times as long as was realistically necessary. Especially since they were only interested in what he saw, not what he knew.

Now there was only one thought on his mind. "I must destroy it." Dexter had left his personal belongings - his briefcase and his wrench - in his office before departing for the police station. As soon as he collected his possessions he would head straight for his apartment, and begin the undoing of the greatest scientific achievement of his life. After the events of the night there was not a moment to spare.

The research department was packed with colleagues eager for a chance at their fifteen minutes of fame. _Idiots, all,_ Dexter fumed. They clustered in groups around the interoffice televisions sets that descended from the ceiling panels, newly installed only a few weeks before. "Shh, shh, it's starting, look!" someone exclaimed. "Can you believe that guy used to work right here in this department?"

The screen displayed a podium with several microphones erected in Mega Tower's front courtyard. The company's chief executives were gathered in a solemn line of identical bald heads and brown suits. But someone else was speaking, high-pitched and nasal.

 _"This morning my world was shattered when I learned the news of Mr. Magnus' untimely demise..."_

The door to his office was shut. Dexter applied himself to the doorknob, but it merely rotated in his hand. Through the visibility panes he could clearly see his briefcase positioned on the desktop just as he had left it. He fished his key card from his pocket and tried the lock.

 _"...Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and even our superiors may sometimes struggle under that unwanted weight..."_

The door would not yield.

 _Something is wrong here_ , said Dexter's brain. _Something is very wrong._

His plaque had been removed from the office door.

 _"…yet despite the twin burdens of responsibility and power I will be assuming as the corporation's new Executive Chairman, I hope I can keep this good man's memory alive as we move toward our future together. Thank you."_

Dexter wiped a trail of perspiration from his face with the back of a glove, and impulsively rammed his shoulder against the door. That only succeeding in giving him the beginnings of a large contusion.

"Hey, shut up over there! We're trying to watch the TV."

"My apologies," Dexter mumbled, distracted into politeness when –

 _"WARNING. WARNING."_

The insistent words burst into the silence of the room like a shot, and then a piercing wail rose up over the sound of the television and his coworkers' protests.

Four camera views of his apartment unfurled on the screen of his tablet. _"Homebase security lockdown has been breached,"_ Computer reported as Dexter rapidly dashed his fingers over the screen. _"Six heat signatures detected. Neurotomic databases accessed. Immediate action is required."_

Dexter took in all four windows in one hurried glance. His apartment had been sacked. They'd torn open his desk drawers, his bureau, overturned the bed, and six large men with giant "M" insignia on their uniforms were plowing through his folders and his files while his unplugged electronics sparked around them. Papers carpeted the apartment floor.

"Computer, I cannot get there in time to intercept them!" he stammered, words unable to keep up with the pace of his mind. "There is no possible way!" He racked his brain. "Access apartment building artificial precipitation system, activate immediately!"

 _"Activating artificial precipitation system."_

The six men on the four cameras suddenly threw their heads back as water rained down from the building's sprinklers. The papers on the floor went from white to gray, from blue to black, and the intruders began scooping up armfuls of the melting documents and snapping away electronic wires before escaping with their spoils. Computer's voice remained even and calm in the calamity. _"Please hurry, Dexter."_

He had to go. He had to go _now_. He shoved the tablet back in his pocket, abandoned his briefcase in the office, and fled through the doors of the research department out into the hallway corridors.

 _Not even 24 hours. Mandark is wasting no time._ The elevators were surely compromised, he would have to take the stairs. How many papers had they made off with? How much precious information and data? From the view on Computer's screen, it looked as though they had confiscated the bulk of his work and were returning straight to their master.

Dexter clattered down ten flights of stairs, lab coat streaming behind him, supported only by an incredible rush of adrenaline. _The press conference is still in effect,_ he thought, rounding the landing between flights. _Mandark cannot try anything while the most influential cameras in the world are focused on Mega Tower_. He had to get off the premises, get the core off the premises _. If only I had done it last night!_

With a sudden burst of energy he careened down the last five flights of stairs and arrived gasping on the ground floor. The door was about fifty yards away. He could walk right out of the building, right into safety –

 _No. No no no_. Dexter recoiled into the shadows of the stairwell. Amidst the photographers, journalists and members of the press, the room was punctuated with MegaCorp security guards. Big, hulking men whose jackets were marked with the same large M as the brutes who had stormed his apartment.

 _I am being watched. I am trapped._ As Dexter backed into the stairwell, gaze trained on the nearest guard, he saw the man's eyes flicker in his direction before locking his sights on his target. He barked a series of orders into his headset and without another look Dexter rushed up the flight of stairs. _It cannot fall into Mandark's clutches._

There was an indistinct yell behind him, a deep and ferocious voice. Years of being small and weak had taught him one important lesson: he would have to even the field. Dexter slapped aside the folds of his lab coat and seized at the low-frequency phaser pistol he wore strapped to his belt at all times. Like a reflex he ratcheted the machine to maximum power and turned upon his assailants. He pulled the trigger, his gun kicked, and a blue-white beam of light felled the man at the front of the pack.

It was a distraction that stalled the guards long enough for Dexter to turn and make a run for the 21st floor. The corridor leading toward the office space was lined with the same amber-tinted windows Magnus' office boasted, but their appearance was no comfort. He couldn't jump, with the containment unit the core would remain intact when he would not. Dexter kept running. To ensure the core was neutralized he would have to separate its constituent particles with a concentrated blast of energy, and there was no way to do it on the corporation's grounds.

There was one solution, one dreadful solution. _I will have to hide it. It is the only way._

Dexter reeled as a tremendous shout erupted behind him and an explosion shot a hole in the drywall next to him. The unexpected blast caused him to stumble and he turned his head. For the first time he saw that the guards were wielding weapons of their own, short-range photon phasers in black and red.

He fired his pistol one, two, three times, and two men went down but two remained. His gun was made to be light and portable; its meagre charge was quickly fading.

Dexter threw open the pair of doors at the end of the hallway. He had happened upon the cubicle farms. He hesitated at the aperture for the briefest fragment of a second, but in his heightened mental state he could see the vast network of cubicles stretched out before him like a grid. He plunged into the room, the guards still halfway down the hall.

The two men paused at the entryway as well, searching for their target. To their eyes the cubicles' partial walls and corners and angles turned the room into a veritable maze. "Remember our orders," one of the men hissed. "Don't kill him."

The employees either craned their heads around the sides of their workspace or tried to make themselves small and unseen as the security guards trooped through the room, fingers twitching on the triggers of their weapons.

"There! Hands above your head, now!" There was a flash of white, a blast from the photon phasers, and Dexter was down on the floor.

It was no use to protest - they were bullies and brainless - still Dexter tore at their hands and wrenched out of their grasp and strained and fought to escape with every atom in his being. But he was one atom lighter than previously, and when he felt a blow to his spine that sent him tumbling to his knees, he found himself instantly overpowered, and dragged away through the crowd of wide-eyed watchers to places unknown.

-X-

He was alone. Despite his fiercest exertions they had clamped his limbs into a contraption evidently based upon a standard electric chair, but embellished with an array of superfluous knobs and buttons. He was almost disgusted with himself for never guessing Mandark would develop this secret interrogation room. Here, in the underground foundations of Mega Tower, it made perfect sense.

For lack of anything else to do, Dexter studied the room, looking for any breaches of security that might afford a means of escape or rescue. It was a single space, windowless, with concrete walls and floor, likely used for storage in its honest days. He couldn't turn his head - like his wrists and ankles, his neck was clasped in an unyielding steel collar, and he felt the pressure of electrodes snaking insidiously through his hair with the slightest movement. But he could see the graduated electronic decelerator that operated his apparent torture device erected on a table nearby, painted black and red with a "Mandark Industries" stamp on the side. Typical. Beside it lay some sort of gadget he could not identify from such a distance, though it resembled a baton with a button on one end.

"The Neurotomic Protocore will not remain hidden for long." In his solitude, he could not be sure whether he was thinking or speaking aloud. "If I can secure my release, then there is still hope. I must protect the core at all costs."

It made him angry to feel the blood involuntarily drain from his face at the thought. He was _not_ going to blanch at the first sign of danger, and especially not when his own creation was the cause of it all. He was far too stubborn for that.

Through the heavily fortified door, Dexter heard the faintest echoes of footsteps. The first sound to approach was the clomping of heavy boots belonging to the so-called security guards. No surprise, they were the ones who had split his lip and left him to his thoughts nearly half an hour ago. The second noise was the sound of hard heels striking against the pavement. _Clack clack clack. Clack clack clack clack clack._

There was silence, then the soft chime of keys entering a passcode at the door, then a groan as the door opened up mechanically, and three men walked into the room.

"Ah, Number Twelve! How very good to see you looking so well. Chilly?"

They had taken his shirt and lab coat and with it, Computer. Dexter set his jaw and said nothing.

"I suppose you are wondering why I brought you here. I have a few questions. Maybe you can guess what they are."

His face was inches away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I have a feeling you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about," Mandark replied.

Dexter vehemently shook his head and raised his voice in a whine. "No, I don't. What have I done? Have I not been a loyal employee? Have I somehow dissatisfied you? Please, don't hurt me. Tell me what to do and I will do it, sir, I promise!"

Instead of bursting into maniacal laughter as Dexter had anticipated, Mandark stepped back and crossed his arms with a frown. "Wow. It really _must_ be dangerous to reduce you to the indignity of manners. Cut the act, Number Twelve. We know one another, you and I." He turned his attention to the associates flanking him on either side. "72, 863," he snapped, "what did you find when you searched his lodgings?"

"We found maybe fifty schematics for the neurotomic project, and we found a computer in his lab coat."

"What did Computer reveal?" Mandark queried, without removing his eyes from Dexter's face. "Additional files? A database, perhaps?"

"It went into some kind of lockdown mode when we tried to open it." Dexter willed himself not to smirk. _Well done, Computer._

"Lockdown mode. Yes, to be expected. I imagine she is currently executing an information wipe as well." Mandark nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Then he pulled a discharge photon blaster from his jacket and shot both guards dead.

Mandark replaced the black gun in the lining of his jacket as Dexter openly gaped. The orange ray of the electrolaser had torn straight through each man's heart.

"If you want something done right you have to do it yourself," the executive sighed. "Don't worry, though. I have something much less…permanent in store for you." He ran his hand along the shiny lacquer of his electroshock generator. "But you're going to have to cooperate, or we're gonna be here awhile."

Dexter was not afraid. He was not. He had squared off against his hated enemy hundreds and hundreds of times and emerged victorious at every turn. But as he stared at the two figures bleeding out near the door, he recognized for the first time that something had fractured in his opponent's brain. And he knew that was precisely what Mandark wanted him to understand, as he stood grinning before his very face.

"I tell you," Dexter insisted, "I don't know what you're talking about. If you release me now I will never tell a living soul about what has transpired in this room, I swear it!"

"You swear it? Nice choice of words there, Twelve. Brings us right back to the beginning. ' _Yew_ will never possess the Neurotomic Protocore, Mandark, _I swear it_.'" Dexter bit his tongue at the atrocious mockery of his accent. "Is it coming back to you now? I have your designs. _I want the core._ And you, oh rival of my youth, are not leaving here until you tell me where it is."

Dexter hung his head in defeat. "Okay, Mandark. Fine. I do not know why I imagined I could be capable of deceiving such a perceptive mind as yours. You wish to obtain the Neurotomic Protocore."

"Well yeah," Mandark rolled his eyes. "That's what I just _said._ "

"I cannot give it to you. Kill me if you must. The core has been destroyed."

"No, it hasn't. I know you, Number Twelve. You would _never_ destroy your own work, no matter how dangerous it may prove to be." Dexter narrowed his eyes. "Especially if you know someone else wants it."

Mandark grabbed a lever and yanked down hard. All of a sudden Dexter could feel every hair on his body stand on end, could feel the burn of his skin, feel the electrical energy jolting through his body, coursing through his veins. He did not shout, but he gasped for air until the pulse subsided, leaving his muscles weak and his heart thumping in his chest.

"So…where did you say the core is hidden?" Mandark smiled, cranking a knob on the generator with a flick of the wrist.

"I _told_ you," Dexter hissed, lip curled in unconcealed disdain, "I _don't have it_."

Mandark clapped his hands. "Now _there's_ the guy we all know and loathe! It's a lot easier to be yourself, isn't it, Twelve? Doesn't help you when you're getting bullied but you can't win them all, right? My god, I nearly drove myself mad these past few months. _Yes,_ Mr. Magnus, _no_ , Mr. Magnus, very good _idea_ Mr. Magnus! Sickening. They say you were there when he fell. Tell me, did he bounce?"

" _He_ was a good man," Dexter snarled. "Better than you can ever hope to be."

"See, that's the thing," Mandark sneered, and suddenly his facade of composure melted away, and he might as well have been wearing his high-collared cape for the black look on his face. "I don't want to be a good man. But I'm not a liar. Defend the weak and the helpless and the _dead_ , if you want - after all, they are no match against a wicked villain like me. But don't forget who brought the Neurotomic Protocore into existence. Don't forget it was _your_ brain that dreamed up that monstrous means of controlling mankind, _your_ pathetic ego that has endangered the whole world, not mine. You could have destroyed the core at any time, couldn't you? Yes, I see it on your face. But your pride would never allow it. And here we are."

He brought the lever down again. The electricity surged through the electrodes, jolting every muscle in Dexter's body and forcing him to thrash against the restraints.

"Y – you are mad, Mandark," he choked out, almost unable to breathe for the spasms in his heart. "You don't understand. The core will destroy everything. It is a perversion of science. If you would only stop to think – "

This time he did scream. A twist of the knob, then Mandark brought the lever down, and he cried out until the sound was ringing off the walls. _"Please_ , Mandark," he whispered. _"Listen – "_

"Listen? To _you?_ " Mandark spit in his face, and grinned at the degradation. "I don't think so.No, Twelve, _y_ _ou_ will bring me the Neurotomic Protocore – "

"You're sick. Deranged. _Please_ – "

" - And _I_ will reverse the flow, and I will drain their minds of every independent thought, and I will bring the world to its knees, and _then_ , then _they_ will listen to _me_."

Dexter grit his teeth. The muscles in his face were numb, exhausted, but he forced his brow into the closest semblance of a scowl he could muster. "Mandark, is this not enough?" His breath came out ragged and unstable. "You own the corporation. You have millions of people under your command. I am here at your mercy. You've even claimed the love of your life. Is it not – URGHH!"

" _NO_!" Mandark screamed over the sound of the voltage crashing through the wires. " _No, it's not, Dexter_! And it is never _going_ to be. _You_ might be frightened of what you made, what you revealed about yourself in the making of it - but _I_ am not frightened!"

Dexter could feel nothing, he could say nothing, he could see very little. The one overwhelming sense was pain, everywhere, without stop. When he fell to the cold, hard floor, his bonds released, it was the most welcome relief he had ever known.

"Where is the core?"

His mouth was full of sticky, metallic blood. "I don't – I don't – "

 _"Where is the core?"_

"I cannot tell you," he breathed. "I cannot tell you, ever."

He could see Mandark's shoes walking away from him. Dexter tried to raise himself onto his elbow but his muscles gave way and he collided with the concrete once again. Was there nothing that could move this monster of a man?

"Dee Dee," he gurgled.

 _"What?"_

"Dee Dee." Dexter spit a mass of blood onto the floor. "If you reverse the flow, what will happen to her? What would she think of you?"

There was a pause. Another silence. "What would Dee Dee think?" Mandark asked himself softly.

"Yes, what would – ARGGGH!"

A red-hot ray of lightning slashed into his back. Dexter rolled over in agony and shielded himself just in time to catch the next blow on his arm, the savage cord winding around and searing into his skin with a smell of burning flesh.

"What would Dee Dee think?" Mandark was above him, towering like a skyscraper, like a Titan with his weapon of furious fire. "Dee Dee – " another crack of the horrible whip – "would think" – CRACK - "exactly" – CRACK – "what you told her to think! Just like she always has."

He kicked the pale, gasping, shivering heap over with his foot, drove his shoe into its skin four or five times, then crouched down to whisper in its ear. "You will not win this one. As long as I so live I _will_ possess the Neurotomic Protocore and rule the world. I swear it."

-X-

Dexter opened his eyes. He was in a white room. He could not say how much time had passed. When he examined his aching arms they were still purple and black with cruel, massive bruises and jagged torn away flesh. He could not have been here long.

There was a humming sound. What was that infernal humming? It was so _loud_. He had never heard it before. He backed against the wall and ground his palms into his ears but, if anything, the humming sound grew louder.

And it was hard to breathe. Where was he? Some kind of hidden cell? _I must be in Mega Tower_. He kept one hand pressed to his ear and wrapped the other around his middle, but instantly jerked forward in an explosion of pain. He felt dampness trickling down his back and realized he must have opened a scar with the sudden action. _There's not enough air…_

Then over the humming he heard words. A speaker, somewhere.

 _"Number Twelve, what is the location of the Neurotomic Protocore?"_

"I cannot tell you," he whispered, hoarsely. The humming sound grew louder.

He woke up again, another day. He was shaking. He couldn't hear his stomach but he could feel its emptiness in the rumbling and the terrible pain. He huddled in his corner of the cell.

The voice again. _"Number Twelve, what is the location of the Neurotomic Protocore?"_

"I cannot tell you," he croaked, and the humming sound grew louder.

Another day. Another question. Over and over. And every day the air grew thinner, and the sound grew louder.

-X-

There were black things on the floor. Lots of them. One, two, three, four. He reached to touch them. They were smooth, and they felt good in his hand.

He looked at his outstretched arms, but they were hard to see. Half his glasses were broken. A big crack, right over one eye. But he could still make out hazy yellow patches on his skin and rough, curving brown lines.

He heard a voice. He wanted to cry out, "Please, don't hurt me!" But the voice didn't say those awful words, "Neurotomic Protocore." It said, "…almost nothing left….like a brain in a jar….I'll keep him around…still knows something."

He saw feet come into the room, shiny shoes, and he instinctively flattened himself against the wall.

"Go on, take it. It belongs to you."

The four black things came closer. They were buttons. Buttons to a lab coat. It hurt his bruises and his wounds to wrap it around his body, but it was warm. "T-thank you," he whimpered. "T-thank you. I am v-very grateful."

"Of course! It is our way of saying thank you for your cooperation, Dexter. You are free to go. Dexter? Dexter?"

He backed against the wall again and shrank down into his coat. Who were they talking to? Were they talking to _him_?

"I – I'm not Dexter." He shook his head. "I am Number Twelve."

The humming sound had been bad. But Number Twelve thought the laughing might just be worse.


	8. Interference

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

 **Interference**

"Are all the guys in this city complete and total _jerks_?"

Dee Dee chucked her phone to the far end of the sofa and pulled her knees to her chest with a huff. She glared at the screen in the distance, still able to read the tiny pixelated letters that spelled out the words "No Messages."

"You'd think after you rocked a guy's world you would at least hear back from him," she grumbled, chin in her hand. "It's been two whole days." It wasn't like she'd just dragged him home from the bar for a night, either. He'd been a nice one, they'd had dinner and dancing, and now – nothing. The third guy in as many months to just… _disappear,_ without a trace.

"Guys aren't supposed to drop off the face of the earth," Dee Dee told herself as she reached for the phone and sifted through her old messages. "Even if they aren't interested. What gives? There must be something wrong with this phone." It _had_ started doing this weird click thing whenever she was lucky enough to have a conversation. Maybe it had some kind of glitch.

But she couldn't go buy a new phone, not now. The night they'd broken up, she'd sworn to herself that she would never, _ever_ buy anything that had been stamped with Mandark's name - she'd already buried the mementoes from his last visit deep in her junk drawer. Since practically everything was "a subsidiary of Mandark Industries" these days, that narrowed her options to almost nothing. At least it was easier to pay her rent since she never went shopping anymore. She was having to pinch every penny until it screamed.

And really….she studied the smooth white gadget in her hand with a sigh. Even if she _could_ afford a new phone, she wanted to keep this one anyway.

"I thought Dexter said the future was supposed to be bright." Dee Dee pulled her knees closer and wrapped both arms around them like a hug. She knew if he were there, he would make fun of her for talking to herself, but she didn't like it when it was too quiet. She felt kind of scared when things were too quiet. She'd never had to worry about that when she was a kid, surrounded by friends or her family or her faithful Koosalagoopagoop. It was hard to be alone, grown up. Sometimes she wished she could just go back to the old days, back when everything made sense.

 _Tears for the past are a waste of time, Dee Dee._ She brushed a few stray droplets off of her cheeks. "Maybe _your_ future is bright, Dexter," she mumbled, "but mine is just falling apart. Guess you're not right about _everything_ , huh?"

It had been more than a year since she'd seen her brother. Until their awful fight, Dee Dee would have thought that was impossible. For a long time, it had still hurt her too much to even think of apologizing; when she'd been dating Mandark there definitely wasn't any point in trying. Boy, _that_ was only her best idea ever. Talk about a waste of time. What had she even been thinking? _  
_  
Now whenever she tried to reach Dexter, his phone would only ring and ring, and never go to voicemail at all. She wondered what would happen if she admitted she'd been wrong. _I_ _ **wasn't**_ _thinking. That was my problem._ He might listen. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be worth it.

"I'll go see him," she declared to the empty room, and she already felt better, because the only thing worse than being alone was sitting still. "What's stopping me now? I'll go see him, and then he'll have to listen." She had waited long enough.

-X-

The sky was brown, and the air was brown. Dee Dee coughed again, and again got a smattering of disdainful glares from some passengers on the bus. The rest of them were riveted to the screens of their identical black and red M-phones. Everyone was quiet, but they all managed to be awfully unfriendly at the same time.

It had been awhile since she'd taken the bus to the city center. Dee Dee watched as the tall factory smokestacks beyond the window puffed away like big cigars, adding clouds of yellow and gray into the murky sky. The smog had gotten very bad since the Mayor had agreed to lift the ban on chemical manufacturing – they were always talking about it on the news. In some places she could barely make out the sky cars, or the monorail, or even the buildings in the skyline. But she could always glimpse that big M logo lurking behind the smoke, red and jagged like a scratch. _"Buy the new Generation M smartphone, only available from Mandark Industries! Remember – you are nothing without your number!"_

Mega Tower – if that was still its name – grew larger as the bus drew closer. Dee Dee made a face and slumped down in her seat. Mandark wouldn't be back until tomorrow. She'd seen that on the news, too: _"Mandark Industries' Executive Chairman is in Japan this week, inking a significant contract that will blah blah blah…"_ That was one good thing about having a world-famous ex – you always knew where he was going to be.

Still, even if Mandark had been prowling about the premises, Dee Dee would have marched into the building just the same. He was a creep, but she wasn't afraid of him. He might have money, but he was the same dweeby loser she'd known all her life. And if he wanted to try something else on her she'd just whip out Free Judo Lesson #6 and put him in traction for a couple of weeks. The thought brought a mischievous smile to her face.

As for Dexter…no, she wasn't afraid of him, either. She wasn't going to let him call the shots for another minute, not if it meant they could never see each other again. _Besides, things can't get worse than they already are - right?_

When the bus descended to the sidewalk outside Mega Tower, Dee Dee squared her shoulders and stepped into the large glass doors of the front lobby. When she was safely inside she paused for a moment, completely disoriented. "Did I stop at the right building?" It wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten herself hopelessly lost. She took a careful look around. It was Mega Tower, but everything was _different._ The building's beige walls had been painted a garish yellow, bright as the surface of the sun. Small silvery robots zipped back and forth delivering papers and cups of coffee at a lightning pace. The lobby was packed with so many beefed-up security guards she wondered if they were protecting some terrible secret. And the employees – a lot more women than there used to be, though not exactly for equal rights – milled about in red uniforms that reminded her of busy ants in an anthill.

"This place doesn't look anything like it used to," she thought as she waded through the mob toward the elevator. "It looks kind of…wicked."

She gave a little distracted jump when the elevator dinged and opened at the 57th floor, the reception area for the research department. It was redecorated in the same fiery colors as the rest of the building, and Dee Dee's heart sank when she realized her favorite secretary was no longer at her post behind the helpdesk. Instead it was a girl about her own age, blonde, pinched into the tightest uniform Dee Dee had ever seen in her life.

The new secretary looked out from half-closed lids. "Can I help you?"

Dee Dee shook her head, trying to clear away the only thought that came to mind: _Where on earth does she buy her bras?_

"Yeah, um, I'd like to see my brother, please."

"Number?"

"Number? I don't have a num- "

" _Employee_ number?"

Dee Dee fidgeted uneasily. "Um, I don't really know. I'm looking for my brother, his name is Dexter. He's a research physicist. Red hair, lab coat, acts like he owns the place? He works right in there." She pointed at the door behind the secretary, hoping that would be enough information.

The girl tapped a key on her keyboard and glanced at the screen. "Visitors are not allowed."

"Yeah, I know it says that, but...I used to come visit him all the time. Margie always let me in. She had a younger brother too, so she knew how us big sisters have to keep an eye on them! Do _you_ have a little brother?"

"No."

"Oh…." So much for that idea. "Maybe you could bend the rules for me, just this once! I have something really important to tell him and it can't wait – "

"Miss, you don't understand. Number Twelve is not accepting any visitors at this time."

 _Number Twelve?_ "Well, I can come back tomorrow, I guess, if I really need to – "

"Number Twelve is not accepting visitors at this time. I am under strictest orders. No one is permitted to visit his office. He is very busy."

"But – "

The secretary blinked, completely bored, and Dee Dee felt the heat springing into her cheeks. "Then you need to give him a message. Tell him that his sister wants to talk to him – "

"Number Twelve does not wish to be disturbed," recited the secretary, an edge creeping into her tone. "Good afternoon."

"But - I'm his sister! I _have_ to talk to him! I haven't even seen him in a year!"

"Miss, Number Twelve is not accepting visitors at this time. I am under strictest orders from my superior. Shall I show you the memo?" The secretary moved her manicured hand toward a spear of papers and lifted one from the stack, handing it over the desk. "Number Twelve does not wish to see you."

Dee Dee stared hard at the signature on the bottom of the page, blurry through her tears. "His _name_ is _Dexter_ ," she snapped.

"Will that be _all_ , miss?"

"Yeah." Dee Dee turned on her heel. "Thanks for nothing."

He didn't want to see her? He _still_ didn't want to see her, after all this time, and wrote and signed an official order just to keep her out? Fine. That was just _fine._ _He's probably working extra-hard since Mandark's beat him to the top,_ she thought. _Probably doing something big and important. Probably can't afford to be bothered by a nuisance like me_.

She let herself out at the ground floor. She gazed up at the city, standing still as people bustled all around her. Before her she saw brown sky, yellow clouds, flying cars, giant billboards. Behind her lay Mega Tower, Mandark Industries, and her brother holed up, concentrating on his work, no care in the world but for himself. She hadn't been able to talk to him, but she'd definitely gotten her answer.

Everything she loved about the past had changed, and everything she hated had stayed exactly the same.

-X-

Dee Dee smacked at the lock to the dance school. Stuck again. Why couldn't it just _work_ for once? Lately she'd come home and discover her door hadn't even shut all the way. "I'm lucky I haven't been robbed," she muttered, finally winning the battle through a combination of pulling, rattling, and swearing at the lock. She felt tired all over, like she did after a long day of dancing. Her swollen feet protested every thumping step up the stairs.

The old apartment was never filled with roses anymore, but Dee Dee liked it better when it was filled with all her favorite junk. She sank into the sofa and pried off her flats as an infomercial chattered away in the background. They were selling some kind of blender, that was also a toaster, that also made waffles, or something - she wasn't really paying attention. Besides, the TV was starting to act funny too. It had been fading in and out for weeks, and sometimes there would be an echo from the speakers, like it was picking up feedback. She was afraid to investigate though, because she was pretty sure she would end up breaking the thing in five seconds and there was definitely no TV in her budget.

She wondered why she didn't feel like crying, to know Dexter still hated her after a year and a half had passed. It was kind of weird. She was terribly sad, a painful ache of loneliness twisting in her chest, but even stronger was a feeling of…confusion. It felt like her brain was working on some kind of problem, but she didn't know what it was. "Maybe I'm all cried out," she considered, turning up the volume on the TV before heading for the shower.

Either way, it wouldn't be fair to come to class with anything less than a smile. For the sake of her little ballerinas Dee Dee soaked up the steam and hot water for a good half hour, stepping out refreshed though not much wiser. She grabbed a couple of bath towels and wrapped up before splashing into the front room in search of a bottle of nail polish to treat her poor beat-up feet. The TV had switched to the 12:00 news, but she could barely understand what the grinning news anchors were saying for the odd, scrambled sounds from the speakers. "What's that word Dexter used to use?" She chewed her lip and tapped her sagging towel turban into an upright position. "Interference. It sounds like interference." Maybe she was wrong, but she thought that only happened when the waves from two machines were cancelling each other out. Dexter's lab was packed with random gizmos, but her apartment just had a TV and a clock. What could be causing the problem?

"Please don't break, please don't break…" Dee Dee tip-toed toward the flatscreen so she wouldn't spook it. She peeped at the black wires coiled against the wall. Dad had helped her set it up when she'd bought it, she had no clue what any of them actually did. She delicately straightened a few out in case there was a bad connection or something. The TV echoed as loudly as ever.

"Maybe there's something in the speakers." Holding her towel in place under her arms, she used her free hand to feel below the dusty set for the grill of the speaker. She was surprised to find something small and round brush against her fingertips first. "Is that a button?" She bent in for a closer look. No, it wasn't a button. It was something else.

Dee Dee pinched it between her fingers and examined it. It was a bug, with six legs and a pair of wings, but not a real one, like Dexter's termite Timmy used to be. It was made of metal and painted black. "Who would put a bug in my apartment?" she asked aloud again. She'd never known anyone who was into practical jokes. Her fingernail caught on a scratch in the shiny black finish – a tiny letter etched into the metal. M.

And then she got the joke.

She stumbled backwards, clutching at her towel, and the bug fell to the carpet, its two red eyes glowing dimly as the device continued to record. In the next instant she pounced on the camera and smashed it in her hands, then she whirled in the middle of her apartment feeling as though the room itself had turned a pirouette.

 _"_ _MANDARK!_ You sick, disgusting _freak!_ "

With a scream of rage Dee Dee yanked the TV out of the wall and brought it to the floor with a terrible crash. There were no other gadgets, none she could find, attached to the back of the set. She heaved the furniture away from the walls, flung the cushions across the room. Nothing there. She searched for patches or holes in the wallpaper, then she tore down her clock and stomped into the back, then she found a screwdriver and pried off the plates to the light switches, but it wasn't any use, anything at all could be hidden among those wires and she would never know the difference! The bug had been the obvious clue, the decoy, and she hadn't even noticed that! She only knew the real wires were buried deeper and unseen, that he was still watching, watching her and laughing. How could she be so _stupid?_

Her apartment was in shambles by the time she stood, panting, in the wreckage of her bedroom. Now it really looked like a bomb hit, with sparking wires dangling from the walls and broken plastic strewn among her clothing and possessions. Dee Dee was sure most of the cameras were here, even though she could never guess where. She wanted to vomit.

She dropped to her knees and grabbed for a t-shirt and jeans, then crawled toward the shadows of her closet to dress. When she opened the door she pulled all the clothes off the hangers. She dragged out her old duffel bag and hurled her clothes inside, then scooped some more items off her bed and dresser and threw those in as well. She was furious to feel that her arms and fingers were trembling violently. So was her voice.

"I know you're listening, Mandark!" she shouted to the empty space. "You think you're so _smart,_ don't you? Well, you haven't won yet. _This is not over!_ "

She knew it didn't matter. He would always be one step ahead of her, he could do whatever he wanted. But she was not going to live under a microscope without making him work to turn the gears. There was only one place she could go, only two people she could trust in the world, and on stumbling legs she ran for the bus stop, back to the safety of her childhood home.


	9. Moving On

**CHAPTER NINE**

 **Moving On**

"Dee Dee, sweetie! What a surprise!"

Dee Dee peeked over Mom's shoulder into the house, but was quickly crushed into the confines of a maternal hug. "It's so good of you to drop by! Let me look at you! Ohhhh, just as pretty as ever, but your hair is still wet! You'll catch your death! You better come inside right _now_."

Mom grabbed her hand and towed her through the doorway. With her free hand Dee Dee absently clutched and unclutched the strap of her duffel bag, eyes wide as she took a look at her surroundings. _No, no, I can't believe I **forgot…**_

"What brings you here on a Friday afternoon?" Mom asked. "Don't you have classes or something today?"

Dee Dee stood blinking in the huge, empty living room, littered with newspapers and cardboard boxes and nothing else, and said, "I…was going to help you pack."

Mom clapped her hands with pleasure. "Now isn't that thoughtful? Did you hear that, hon?" She raised her voice to a yell. "Dee Dee's here and she's going to help us pack!"

 _"What?"_ came a voice from very far away.

" _Dee Dee's_ here and she's going to help us _pack_!"

Her head hurt. She felt dizzy. Dee Dee leaned against the fireplace to steady herself and tried to listen to whatever it was Mom was saying now.

"So, I guess you got our message, then? I wasn't sure it went through. I'm still learning how to use that new phone, you know!"

"Yeah." The word came out thick as syrup. "Yeah. I got it. The one where you said you'd…sold the house."

"And to the _nicest_ little family too. After only two years on the market! Now, where can your father be hiding? _I_ think he's trying to get out of work, don't you?" Mom laughed heartily at her own joke. When she checked to see if Dee Dee had heard it, she finally noticed the brimming duffel bag. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why, Dee Dee," she asked, "what's all this?"

Dee Dee blinked again. _How_ had she forgotten all about it? Mom and Dad had left her the voicemail weeks ago to let her know the house had sold, and from the looks of it they would be moving out any day now. "Um," she stammered, trying hard to steady her voice, "I…well….they're doing renovations at the dance studio – "

"Hello there, Dee Dee!" Dad emerged from the den coated in about a foot of dust. "Long time, no see!"

"She's coming to help us pack, dear," said Mom.

"Well she sure picked a _fine_ time to pitch in. We're almost _done_ now – _ow!_ " He scrubbed the red mark where Mom had whacked him on the arm.

"It is the _thought_ that counts," she hissed.

"Yes, dear. You're right. So, what's that big bag for?"

"Dee Dee was just about to _tell_ us." Mom held up her gloved palms – _silence_ – then gestured to Dee Dee. "Go ahead, sweetie."

"I thought I might stay here for a few days," Dee Dee blurted all at once, face burning.

"Stay here?" Now it was Dad's turn to be confused.

"If that's okay." She glanced timidly between their surprised faces. "It's my apartment. They're doing renovations. I, um…I had bugs."

Mom shivered with horror. "Then _thank goodness_ they are taking care of it!"

"I'm surprised they're just now starting with renovations," Dad mused, hands in his pockets. "I think your little dance school is one of the last old-timey buildings left in that neighborhood."

"I guess."

She couldn't think of anything else to say. Her brain just wasn't working. Fortunately Mom stepped in to fill the awkward pause. "Well, Dee Dee, you're welcome to stay here for the weekend. Moving Day is Monday, but until then you can sleep in your old bedroom. Your Dad still hasn't taken your bed apart, so I guess we're lucky he's been a little lazy."

" _Lazy?_ That's a full-size canopy bed!"

Mom rolled her eyes. "C'mon, sweetie. We'll get you some linens and it'll be good as new."

"But you're not gonna need all that stuff for just two nights," Dad advised as he headed back toward the den.

Industrious as ever, Mom marched into the dining room and made a beeline toward a pile of cartons stacked against the far wall. Dee Dee stared blankly at the labels that had been stuck onto each and every box. "Electronics." "Silverware." "X-mas decorations." They were all organized alphabetically.

 _They must have found my old label-maker_ , she thought. _No, they must have found Dexter's. These stickers are black and white._

She was crying before she could stop it. Her duffel bag slipped off her shoulder and she buried her face in her hands, tears spilling in between her fingers and onto the dusty purple carpet.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mom immediately dropped the floral sheets back in their box and rushed over to wrap her in another hug. Dee Dee pressed her face against her mother's shoulder, breathing in the familiar Mom-scent of streak-free lemon detergent with every gasping sob.

Mom's rubber gloves squeaked and snagged against her hair as she stroked her head. "Oh Dee Dee, I know it's a lot, seeing the house so empty. It's a lot for me, too. We've got so many memories here! But this move will be good for us. Now your dad and I will be in the city, closer to you and your brother, and you can drop by whenever you like!"

"No, no, it isn't that," Dee Dee choked out. Mom pulled away and looked her in the face, and her brown eyes were filled with concern. "Then…what is it?"

 _What is it?_ Dee Dee took a step back, startled. She felt like she was peering at her mother through a fog. _What is it?_ How could she possibly begin to explain?

 _Gee, Mom, I was dating this guy who was crazy about me, and also happened to be a millionaire, but I broke up with him because he creeped me the hell out, so then he started stalking me, and he bugged my apartment, and he might have killed a couple of my boyfriends too, and oh yeah did I mention he owns like half the city?_

She'd always been able to tell Mom everything, but this time she just...couldn't. The biggest worry Mom had ever had was removing stubborn grass stains. There was no way she could understand any of this.

Dee Dee shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "Nevermind." She forced a smile, and Mom immediately brightened. "It's nothing."

-X-

"Ah, isn't that nice?" Mom looked approvingly at the perfectly-made bed, tucked taut with four neat hospital corners and not a single rumple to be found. "There's nothing like sleeping in a freshly made bed." It was at this point Dee Dee remembered she probably hadn't washed her own sheets in months. "Yeah. Nothing like it."

Mom had always said she was going to make herself a sewing room when Dee Dee moved out, but it looked as though her room hadn't been touched at all in five years. Of course most of her belongings were packed up now, but there was the same pink carpet on the floor, heart-print paper on the walls, and the big four-poster canopy bed she slept in until the day she'd left. Dee Dee wondered why it felt so unfamiliar.

"Dinner's almost done," Mom announced, tip-toeing toward the hall at the sound of a timer ringing in the kitchen.

"I thought I smelled something," Dee Dee mumbled, following her down the staircase. "Did you get take-out?"

"Take-out? No, I made a pot roast."

"A _pot roast_?"

"Yes, what else would I make?"

Leave it to Mom to cook a three-course meal in the middle of packing for a move. They found Dad wandering aimlessly about the kitchen, sticking his balding head into the oven just like the hungry witch in the fairytale. "Get away from there, you're letting the heat out!" Mom ordered, running over to shoo him off. "And I better not find you've been nibbling, or you won't get a _thing_ for dessert."

Among the cardboard boxes filled with appliances and canned goods, Mom had carved out a tidy workstation complete with utensils and cookware. Dee Dee sat down in her old seat at the table and gazed mutely at her mother's backside as Mom began pulling steaming casseroles out of the oven.

"So, Dee Dee," Dad attempted, "what have you been up to?"

"Nothing much."

"That's nice." They'd never had a lot to talk about since she'd outgrown baseball and go-carts. Dad seized at the plate of food Mom offered and plunked it down in front of him, rapturously breathing in the aromas. "Now that's good eating," he murmured, and was immediately lost to the delights of dinner.

Mom passed a plate to Dee Dee and settled in the seat between them. "Isn't this lovely? It's been awhile since we've had company, hasn't it, dear?"

"Mm," said Dad. Dee Dee steered a broccoli floret around with the tines of her fork and noticed that her fingers were shaking again.

"We've just been so busy getting ready for the move," Mom chattered in-between bites. "I can't believe how much bigger the house seems after all the packing! Why, it almost makes me want to take everything out of those boxes and move right back in! But you should see our new apartment, Dee Dee. It's so futuristic, with all the latest technology!"

"Sounds great, Mom."

"Oh, it is," she sang. "I'm just worried I won't know how to _use_ anything! I mean an automatic dishwasher? A robotic vacuum cleaner? I might as well be in the stone age like Barney and Betty, it's a miracle I learned to work my new phone." She dabbed her mouth daintily with her napkin, then rooted around in the pocket of her apron before pulling out the all-too-familiar black and red Generation M. "The boy at the store said it was the newest model, so I bought one for your father too. Didn't I, dear?"

"Mmm-hm."

Mom poked at the screen for a minute before sighing in defeat. "I can't use it while I'm wearing my gloves. I guess these things just aren't _made_ with housewives in mind. But I can do my shopping online, and call all my girlfriends, and even pay my bills! Did you know they're not using telephone numbers anymore? Now everyone has their own special number ID, just like their name."

"Mine is 323," Dad put in, circling his fork in the air.

"Mine is, hmm, I think it's 468? I wrote it down. What is your number, Dee Dee? I'll add it to my address book."

"I don't have one."

There was a clatter of flatware against china, then they both looked at her like she was an alien from another planet. "You don't have one?" Mom repeated. "What do you mean?"

"You don't want to be a no-number!" Dad exclaimed.

"And what about that nice phone I got you for your birthday last year?" Mom continued.

"I broke it two weeks after I got it." She savagely stabbed at the piece of broccoli. "I'm using one that Dexter gave me. I don't buy anything made by Mandark Industries. Their stuff _sucks_."

 _And they're probably spying on you right now._ She glanced around the room. How many bugs were hidden in the light sockets and electrical outlets? Were there cameras in Mom and Dad's new apartment too? She was sure Mandark Industries owned the entire building.

Mom gave a little uncomfortable cough. "Well! That's…interesting. Hm. That reminds me, Dee Dee, how has your brother been doing?"

Dee Dee raised her eyes and stared. "What?"

"How has Dexter been? Have you heard from him lately?"

"H- haven't _you?_ "

A Look passed between Mom and Dad, and Dee Dee felt a stab of anxiety that sent her heartbeat into her ears.

"You haven't heard from Dexter?" Dee Dee demanded.

"Heard from him? Hasn't even called once since last summer," Dad muttered into his mashed potatoes. "You pay for the boy's education, set him up for life, but do you ever get a _thank_ you? _No…_ "

"I'm sure he's just been busy," Mom twittered. "After all, he _is_ young and living in the big city, there must be lots to do…"

They'd already forgotten they'd asked the question. At least that meant she didn't have to answer it. She didn't have to point out that none of them had seen or talked to Dexter in almost a year's time, that none of them had stopped to think that maybe they should be just a little bit worried about it.

As Dee Dee sat at the table in the empty kitchen, watching her parents talk and laugh without hearing what they said, it suddenly struck her that she was actually the smartest person in the room. She was the only one who understood anything important. It was the weirdest thought she'd ever had.

They weren't mean, or selfish, or cruel. They just didn't get it.

 _Is this how Dexter feels?_ she thought. _Kinda…crazy?_

No wonder he was always angry. He was _always_ alone.

"…the nicest family," Mom was saying, "a couple and their little boy. If you met the wife, you would just think she stepped right out of a fashion magazine! She was wearing one of those new modsuits, all in _white._ Do you think I'd be able to pull one off? I'd have to lose a little weight first…why, Dee Dee, you haven't even touched your dinner! It's probably ice cold. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, Mom," she said. "Never better."

-X-

After dinner Mom put her to work washing and sorting the dishes. When Dee Dee broke four pieces of heirloom china Mom steered her into the bedroom to pack clothes instead. When Dee Dee mixed the spring-green blouses with the sea-green blouses Mom sent her to Dexter's room to clear the bookcase. And when Dee Dee came downstairs bawling her eyes out with an armful of scientific journals, Mom decided it was time for dessert.

But when Dee Dee wasn't able to eat a _single bite_ of her famous pineapple upside-down cake, Mom started to get nervous. "Dee Dee, hon, you look a little tired. Why don't you call it a night and get some rest, hmm?"

"Thanks, Mom. I think I will." Dee Dee plodded over to give her a kiss.

"Night, kiddo, take it easy," Dad said to the television, clearly under the impression it was just that time of the month.

By the time she reached her bedroom, Dee Dee felt like this one day had lasted for a hundred years. She had just flicked off the lamp and collapsed against the cool sheets when she jolted out of bed straight to her overnight bag. She groped for the zipper in the darkness. "There you are, Mr. Fuzzums. You didn't think I'd let that awful Mandark spy on you, did you?"

Mr. Fuzzums responded "no" through a gleam of his wise eye. Still, even the feel of his musty, matted fur was unable to bring her comfort tonight.

Dee Dee hugged the teddy bear close and curled up under her old coverlet. _Where am I going to go?_ She didn't have an answer, and she wasn't even sure she understood the question. She had been so certain she would feel safe and happy in her childhood home, surrounded by the people she'd known and loved all her life. But it wasn't her home anymore. What had Dexter called it? It was an empty shell. Mom and Dad were different too. "Or maybe it's me," Dee Dee whispered into Mr. Fuzzums' ear. "Maybe I've changed. Even though I didn't mean to."

Whether she wanted to stay there or not didn't matter, with Mom and Dad hauling out in less than three days. She just couldn't go back to her apartment, that much she knew. It all felt like a horrible dream. _He said he loved me. But what he's done, this isn't love. This is control. This is scary._ And what would come next? _If this is how he treats the love of his life,_ she thought miserably, _then I sure wouldn't want to be his –_

Enemy.

Dee Dee felt blood tingling in her fingertips, rushing from her cheeks. It was suddenly hard to breathe. She rolled over, tangled in sheets, and all the pieces to the puzzle in her brain clicked into place, like the steps of a dance, or like parts of a machine.

 _That's why Dexter hasn't called me. That's why he's disappeared._ _He isn't angry._ _He's in trouble. Something's wrong._

She'd only been thinking of herself. She'd only cared how she felt. She'd never once wondered in months and months what Mandark's rise to the top could mean for Dexter, the person he hated more than anyone else! What evils did Mandark have in store for his archenemy if he could hurt her so easily? Dexter could be in terrible danger, alone in the heart of the city, and she wouldn't even know!

 _No. No. This is stupid._ Dee Dee sat up, shivering as though the room were freezing cold. She gulped a deep breath. She was being ridiculous. _Dexter and Mandark have been at each other's throats ever since they were kids. Dexter is smart. He can take care of himself, he always has. What makes you think he would lose to that lamebrain now? You're worrying about nothing._

It was a nice thought. The ache in her heart told her it wasn't true.

 _Something is not right. Something isn't adding up. If I've changed – well, maybe Dexter has, too._

She had to find out. And if he was in trouble, she would _never_ forgive herself.


	10. Questions and Answers

**CHAPTER TEN**

 **Questions and Answers**

"I'm telling you I'm not leaving here until you let me in – "

"Miss – "

"Don't "miss" me, I don't care what the rules say, I have to talk to him _now!_ "

"Miss, no one is allowed without prior appointment. If you will provide your number so I can identify you – "

"I don't _have_ one of your stupid numbers!"

"No number? Then there is really nothing I can do – "

The red-haired secretary paused. Dee Dee watched, trembling with impatience, as the woman listened to a loud message firing through the mic on her headset. After a moment her languid eyes shot open behind the lenses of her glasses. " _Number One_? Oh. Oh my. Yes, of course. Certainly sir, right away!"

The woman's fingers sped across the keyboard, pounding an urgent command into the computer. Dee Dee jumped back as the gigantic helpdesk slid aside on the floor to reveal a pair of pointed double-doors.

"I beg your pardon, miss," the head secretary stammered, face pale above the scarlet collar of her uniform. She motioned toward the entrance. "The Executive will see you now. Please, step right in."

Dee Dee was as astonished as all the other secretaries who sat gaping about the room, but she would die before revealing any indication that she hadn't expected her temper tantrum to work. Now she stood as straight as a princess and tried to look just as imposing. "Yeah, that's more like it," she sniffed, and walked elegantly into the office.

She knew exactly what she was going to say when she saw him. She'd planned it all throughout her sleepless night, and into the morning before she left Mom and Dad to their packing. _I am not afraid of you, Mandark. You can spy on me, hurt me, do whatever you want, I don't care anymore. I'm not going to be beaten by a pathetic psycho like you. I am not going to let anyone keep me from my little brother._

She was horrified at the words that spilled from her mouth instead.

"Oh my gosh. Mandark, what's _happened_ to you?"

He hurried from his seat when she entered the office. He was clearly unnerved by her visit, though that wasn't what made Dee Dee stare at him in shock. She stared because the man before her barely resembled the one she'd known just eight months ago. His olive skin looked gray and drawn. His eyes were bloodshot, the expression both empty and intense. He'd discarded the jacket to his designer suit, his pot belly displayed to full advantage, but a film of sweat coated his forehead. It looked like something was seriously wrong. _Could he be sick?_ _Is he doing some kind of dangerous rich-guy drugs?_

He was not offended by her outburst. A crooked smile split his face, and he advanced upon her with open arms. "Dee Dee, my dear, what an unexpected – "

"Get away from me," she hissed, back on her guard at once. "Don't touch me, Mandark. I know what you've done."

"Oh. Yes. I see."

"You see? You've seen a _whole lot_ , haven't you?" Dee Dee countered. "You weren't even man enough to face me, you had to use your perverted little gizmos instead. I don't know why I'm surprised. You've always been _a coward."_

She tensed, feet braced against the tile, as he took a step closer. Mandark put his hands in the air as though he would surrender.

She was having trouble interpreting the look on his face. It was almost embarrassment, but not quite.

"Yes, yes. I know what you must think of me." His voice was quiet and strained. "I warrant nothing less than your utmost contempt. I myself will be first to admit, Dee Dee, that my actions toward you have been horrendous. I have no excuse. I wished to make you suffer, as you have made me suffer without a second thought."

She hadn't predicted a confession. Dee Dee crossed her arms and met his gaze as he raised his eyes from the floor.

"But believe me when I tell you," Mandark insisted, "I gained no satisfaction from my villainous schemes. They were, instead, a thorn twisting in my flesh! To see your lovely face and form, day in and day out, with no hope that I might join you at your side, was a source of greatest torment to me, Dee Dee! Yes, I have been more than repaid for my wrongdoings, in a thousand different ways. It's true."

He took another step. She backed away. There was something in his hand.

"I realize now that I cannot be separated from your glowing happiness and honesty for a second longer. You see what I've become without you by my side! A monster! A mere shadow of myself!"

He dropped to his knees and Dee Dee felt sure she must be in a dream. No, a nightmare.

"Only you can make me whole again, my love. You'll have everything your heart can wish and more! Please, Dee Dee. Please. Say you'll be my Number One. Make me the happiest man on earth!"

The diamond was enormous, threatening to topple from the slender golden band. She could see her reflection trapped inside the stone, split into a hundred pieces by each perfect facet.

Mandark's eyes were glimmering behind his glasses. Not with hope, she saw, but expectation.

She looked into those black eyes and asked, "What have you done to Dexter?"

If a face could melt, at that moment Mandark's would have oozed right off his skull. His broad smile twisted into a grimace, wrinkles flaring around the nostrils of his sharp nose.

"For a moment I imagined that you cared. I might have known he would stand between us, even now."

He snapped the velvet box closed like a bite, and rose to his feet.

"You are _nuts_." Dee Dee's courage swelled with her anger. "Completely and totally _bonkers_. Do you really think I would ever marry you? I wouldn't _marry_ you if you were the last man on earth!" She raised her voice as he walked away, heels clacking towards the desk. "I know you did something to him, Mandark. It's the reason he's disappeared. Tell me what you did! If you would be so mean to me, I know you would be a million times meaner to someone that you hated!"

Mandark rummaged in a drawer of his desk. "Ah, Dee Dee, your enthusiastic curiosity has always been one of your most charming qualities. I pray you never lose it." With one hand he pulled a small remote control out of the drawer – with the other he pressed a button beneath the desktop edge. Dee Dee looked up at the sound of mechanical creaking, and was surprised to find the panels of the ceiling move away as a television screen descended from above. It stopped when it reached eye level, glowing bloody red.

"Mandark, what is – "

"Find out and see." He tossed her the remote control and she caught it easily. It had only one large button, right in the middle.

She glanced at him, suspicious. For all she could tell the switch would trigger some kind of explosion that'd blow them all into outer space - she wouldn't put it past him. But Mandark was only balanced on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, looking bitter and disappointed.

She clenched her teeth and pushed the button.

The screen went from red to yellow. Nothing else happened. "Keep watching," Mandark directed. "You wanted to know."

And the room filled with screams.

 _"AAAAARRRGGGH!"_

It was a cry of uncontrollable terror and anguish. A voice so familiar - a face she couldn't recognize, deformed by contortions of pain.

Then another voice. _"Again!"_

 _"AAAARGHHHH!"_

Orange light slashed across the television, ripping over and over into colorless skin.

 _"Again!"_

 _"AAAARRRGH!"_

She reached for the screen. Static prickled against her fingertips. Blood spattered up onto the camera, making her draw away as though it had stained her.

" _AGAIN!"_

 _"AAAAARRRGGGGHHH!"_ That one was the loudest of all. The spindly figure lurched forward in undisguised agony, every piece of flesh bruised or battered or crossed with jagged dripping wounds, and she realized that his torture ended only because there was nothing left to ruin.

"Dexter?"

No. No, this wasn't Dexter, this was someone else. This couldn't be her brother, torn to shreds under a spotlight for everyone to see. This couldn't be her brother, strong and proud and brilliant. It couldn't be him, he would never give up or give in. It was all a lie.

When she saw him sag against his shackles, broken through and through – when a horrible, hideous laugh shattered the painful silence – then she knew it was real.

Then she was shrieking, pounding her fists into crisply starched cotton, tearing at the damp hands that gripped her by the wrists. "I _hate_ you. I _hate_ you! What have you done to him? What have you _done_?!" All the feeling went out of her muscles, all the spirit went out of her heart. Dee Dee sank to the ground, doubled over, unable even to sob.

"He brought this on himself. He deserves it, all of it! If you knew what he'd done, what his pride and selfishness has caused, even you must be forced to agree!" Mandark lowered his face to meet her own. "Yet even now," he whispered, his breath against her skin, "even now I will be generous. Even after all of his crimes, I am willing to let him go free. It is in your power, Dee Dee, yours alone. You can make all of this horror go away – I know it is your deepest desire – if only you will say one simple word."

"No." Her eyes were dry. Her throat was burning. "You planned this. You wanted this to happen."

"It hasn't sunk in yet. I understand."

He was on his feet again. He must have hit a button on the intercom, orders echoing through the speaker. "CM-334, CM-597, report to my office!" His words to her were smoother.

"I think you need to have a chat with your brother. Then, perhaps, you'll be convinced. But if you hope to save his future you must remember this, my darling. It's the first rule of business: you cannot get something for nothing."

-X-

The rigid metallic grasp of the Mandroids' claws opened up and Dee Dee fell to the floor, but immediately she was on her feet, running toward the figure huddled in the middle of the cold white room.

 _"Dexter!"_

Her brother saw her and screamed, and she skidded to a stop a few feet away.

He put up his arm to ward her off, guarding his face with his other hand. "Please! Don't hurt me!"

"...I would never hurt you, Dexter."

Slowly, the young man dropped his arm to his side. He looked up with wide, questioning eyes. "D-d-d-Dexter?"

He didn't know his name. She should have guessed. Dee Dee approached him carefully, the way you tamed a skittish pony. He shuffled away a bit but she sat down next to him, pulling her knees to meet her chest. She pretended to smile. "Hi, Dexter."

He shook his head, a ghostly echo of his usual stubborn defiance. "N-no. I'm not Dexter. I'm Twelve."

"You are too Dexter. I should know. I'm your sister."

"M – m – my sister?"

Wasn't there just a little bit of the genius she knew, left within him somewhere? "What, you don't remember?" she challenged. "You must be kind of dumb, if you can't recognize your own flesh and blood."

He pushed his glasses onto his nose and blinked at her once. "I – I remember you."

He was so thin. A skeleton almost. Dee Dee could see his collarbone and wrists protruding through his skin. His lab coat, an old one, hung in baggy folds off his body. Stains covered the dingy white cloth, and she saw big rusty blotches on the back where his wounds had seeped through the bandages.

And he wasn't wearing his gloves.

"Oh, Dexter!" She couldn't stand it anymore. She rushed to grab him in her arms - and was stunned to find he did not resist. Dexter collapsed against her shoulder as though he'd been cut at every joint, yielding so completely she struggled to keep him upright. She almost didn't dare to breathe. She thought he might fall to pieces if she did.

He lay still for a moment, bones sinking into the softness of her chest. "I remember you," he murmured in a weak voice. He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself. "But...what is your number?"

"I don't have one."

"Mine is Twelve. You must have a number. Everyone has a number." His accent was missing. Dee Dee thought that might be scarier than anything else.

"I think mine is...Number One," she admitted sadly.

Dexter sat up. "Oh my. Number One. That's a _very_ good number. Why, that must mean – "

It broke her heart to see the fear fly into his face. "Oh, oh no, _please_ don't hurt me – "

"I'm not _going_ to hurt you, Dexter! I'm your sister – Dee Dee – and I love you! When someone loves you they never hurt you, not on purpose! Don't you get that?"

"Dee Dee." At the sound of her name, recognition finally flickered across his features, but his terror only grew stronger. "Dee Dee, you need to get out of here! It is dangerous!"

"No, Dexter. I am _not_ leaving you. Not this time." She reached out and covered his bare hand with hers. "Why did the Executive put you here? What happened? Please, tell me."

"I was bad," came the instant reply.

"No you weren't. I don't believe you. You used to be bossy and mean, but you weren't bad."

He nodded vigorously, the most active she'd seen him yet. "Yes, I was bad. Very bad. I made the Executive do bad things, too."

"Is that what he told you?" Dee Dee cried.

"Y-yes - "

"Then he lied to you! Everything Mandark – " He winced as though she'd struck him. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I mean everything your boss did, he did because he wanted to. Or because his brain told him to." He still didn't believe her. "The Executive did bad things to me, too. Do you think _I'm_ bad?"

"No! Y-you don't understand! I deserved it!" He was half-fierce, half-desperate. "I was late for work! I broke things! I was useless, weak and _s-stupid_! I've ruined everything, everything! It is all my fault!"

"I do understand, Dexter," she softly replied. "It is _not_ your fault. You only wanted what was right, this wasn't supposed to happen. And I'm so, so sorry."

Dexter gazed at her, completely bewildered. She didn't want him to see her cry. So, she hid her face in his collar and pulled him tight.

His chin was resting on her shoulder when he whispered in her ear. "He'll never find it."

"Never find what?" she asked, absently stroking his hair.

"He'll never find it," Dexter whispered again. Maybe she was imagining things, but she thought she detected a bit of a Russian lilt. "No matter how many times he hits me. It is very bad, very dangerous, and I'll never tell where I hid it."

 _"What's_ bad, Dexter?" Dee Dee wondered.

"T-the core."

"The core?" What could he mean?

"Y-yes. The core. It is a secret." He leaned in closer. "Do not tell. It is in my cubicle."

He spluttered as Dee Dee turned her head, pigtails slapping him in the face. "The Neurotomic Protocore? Is _that_ what this is all about? Why he's done this to you?"

"He can't have it!" Dexter protested.

"I _know_ \- "

"It is very dangerous. Very dangerous. It must be destroyed. But – " He shivered violently. "He's always _watching._ "

"Dexter, please, listen. What will happen if Man – the Executive gets the core?"

His answer was another whisper. "Darkness."

What did he mean? What was he talking about? She could see he was getting agitated, fingers tapping rapidly on his leg, and she was too afraid to ask.

Instead Dee Dee grabbed his gloveless hand and laced her fingers into his. "Listen to me, little brother. I am going to get you out of here and we will be a team again. We've fought ghosts, and destroyed giant monsters, and kept Mom's muffins away from Dad and gotten in all kind of adventures. We're in this together, Dexter, just like always. We are going to make things right. I promise."

"P – p – promise?"

She couldn't answer. Heavy metal clamped down onto each arm and Dee Dee found herself dragged backwards, hauled toward the open door.

"NO!" she shrieked. Dexter let out a strangled little shout as her fingers tightened around his. "No! Stop! We need more time!"

Dee Dee hammered at the robotic arms, screamed and thrashed against their grasp, but the Mandroids were as heartless as the man who had made them. She felt a sickening pop in her shoulder that bolted down her arm, fingers flying open to brush against Dexter's outstretched hand as they tore her away.

"DEE DEE!"

"Dexter!"

It was all too much. The last thing she remembered was the sight of her brother, whimpering and crying, before falling away into the black.


	11. Destroyed

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

 **Destroyed**

 _"Dee Dee, stop! Get away from there!"_

 _He swung his wrench into her path to block her way._

 _"Come on, Dexter! I just wanted to see what it **was…"**_

 _"You cannot. It is extremely important, I won't allow you to destroy it!"_

 _"If it's so important then why did you leave it out in the middle of the lab?"_

 _"That is for me to know and not you."_

 _With a scornful tilt of his nose he returned to his work station, wrenching a bolt into a big hunk of metal._

 _"Well, can you at least tell me what it does? It's so shiny and sparkly!"_

 _"No. You would never understand."_

 _"Of course I won't understand if you don't **tell** me."_

 _With a groan, Dexter slammed his wrench onto the polished surface of his desk. "Fine. If you really want to know, I'll tell you. That, Dee Dee, is the Neurotomic Protocore. I made it, and it is going to change the world."_

 _Dee Dee couldn't remove her eyes from the green object swirling before her like a tiny, beautiful planet. "Change it how?" she asked._

 _"What?"_

 _"Change it how? Will it be a good change, or a bad change?"_

 _He was angry, like always. "Well I made it, didn't I? What a question, you stupid girl."_

\- X -

Dee Dee opened her eyes. She was staring at a scar. A crack in the ceiling, trailing and spidering out through the textured plaster, away into the corners of the room. _Just like the one in my apartment_ , she thought, drowsy.

Her apartment? She'd _left_ her apartment.

Dee Dee shot up straight, then clutched her head at a sudden pain that threatened to split her skull in half. She fell back against the pillows, shading her eyes with her hand, until the strike of pain subsided into a dull ache that filled her brain. Sort of like a concussion, closer to a really bad hangover. Like she'd been drugged.

An overwhelming sense of dread spread throughout her body, killing the strength in her muscles and making it hard to move. It wasn't a dream, then.

With a shaking arm she pulled her bedsheets off her legs. Her shoes were gone, but otherwise she was wearing the same clothes she'd worn when she'd been pulled from Dexter's lonely cell. That memory played as clear as a movie. It was what happened in between that worried her.

Did she feel any…different? No. She didn't feel sore or strange anywhere, except for the ache in her head and faint traces of bruises on her wrists. She was surprised to find herself in such unharmed condition. Even her hair was still pulled into its trademark style. That fact didn't really comfort her, though. _I know him. He wanted it this way. It only means the worst is yet to come._

 _And the worst for me will be even worse for Dexter._

The thought propelled her out of bed but as soon as her feet hit the floor she reeled, grabbing for her nightstand to keep herself from crashing to the carpet. Her fingers left a clean trail in the dust that thickly coated the tabletop. It looked as though it had built up for weeks.

Another pang of fear twisted in Dee Dee's chest. She had no idea how much time had passed.

Her apartment was very dark, and she couldn't tell the hour – her clock was still in broken pieces on the floor. A blurry glance out the window showed it must be midday, but heavy stormclouds blocked the sun, signaling rain at any moment.

Planting her hands against the walls, Dee Dee steadied herself long enough to regain her balance and make it to the kitchen. Immediately the stench of rotten food struck her full in the face, but she pushed on to the cabinet, seized at the first bottle, and shook several aspirin into her hands.

 _He did this on purpose. He did this for a reason. He always has a reason._ She stared around the ruins of her apartment, torn apart in her search for Mandark's wires. _He's trying to keep me away. It won't work._

Dee Dee staggered toward her junk drawer and pulled it free, dumping the contents out onto the countertop. Coins and buttons and batteries snickered across the counter and tumbled onto the floor as she searched through the debris. She had made a promise and she was going to keep it. She just needed a few supplies, first.

\- X -

A faint sound, drifting down the corridor, trembled over the antenna of Mandark Industries' patented robotic defense initiator, item number CM-597.

 _"Do you detect the signals of remote audio stimuli?"_ it presently inquired. " _Do you hear something?"_

 _"Such as what?"_ asked its fellow security bot, standing at attention across the doorway.

 _"Such as unidentified humanoid footsteps traveling at an approximate rate of 7.395 meters per second. Such as an intruder."_

The other Mandroid blinked its equivalent of an eye, its artificial intelligence thoroughly insulted. _"Unidentified humanoid footsteps? You require servicing for your audio capacitators."_

 _"But – "_

 _"Holding cell D-22 is the most secure location in all of Mega Tower,"_ the other robot mechanically recited _. "Breach by intruders is a logically impossible supposition."_

 _"But – "_

 _"Holding cell D-22 is guarded by six protective agents,"_ the voice droned on. _"Holding cell D-22 is blocked by three electrolaser fields. Holding cell D-22 is barred by four impenetrable steel doors, with electromagnetic locking mechanisms and retinal scanning authentication. Breach by intruders is a logically impossible supposition. Who would be dumb enough to attempt to – "_

BONK.

A robotic head sailed across the room – a metal body swerved and fell, circuits crackling weakly at the neck.

 _"Intruder, intruder!"_ wailed CM-597, hurtling toward the hard-eyed girl at maximum speed. _"Red alert, red alert! Dispatch backup security forces, repeat, dispatch – "_

Dee Dee vaulted over the charging robot with a flawless _grand jete_ and landed _en pointe_ at the other side of the hall. Then with all the grace of a samurai she swung her shoulder bag slicing through the air, cleanly severing the second droid's head.

"And _that_ is what you get for _sneaking up on me_!" she hissed, leaping over the metallic corpses as she rushed to the doorway of Dexter's cell.

Heart racing from her last victory, Dee Dee pounded her palm against the smooth metal doors. "Dexter, Dexter," she shouted, "I'm here! Don't worry, I am going to get you out of there, I promise!"

She glanced at the password-encrypted lock mounted firmly on the wall. "Oh, this is gonna be really easy!" she assured him, hoping he could hear her through the thickness of the doors. "This is just a standard-issue electronic keypad, with an eight-digit case sensitive passcode and three responses to safeguard against user error! Piece of cake! You always used to use these dumb things in the lab, remember? Except you made it even easier because you always used "password" for your password. Okay, you're right, sometimes you used your birthday too…"

Dee Dee studied the keypad, searching for the keys that had rubs and fading from frequent use. "Your boss is trickier though," she rambled, punching in her first attempt. "He has all kinds of security because he knows you're so smart, but he shouldn't have left this last door under Mandroid supervision, don't you guys know – "

"ACCESS DENIED." Dee Dee paused, frowning at the error screen. "Huh." With slick, shaking fingers, she tried a different sequence. "Don't you guys know robots are the easiest things to beat? So when I – "

"ACCESS DENIED." That was the second attempt. She should have gotten it on the first one. A nervous giggle fluttered up from her throat, but her stomach felt sick.

" – So when I get you out of there, Dexter," she said, deliberately keying in each letter, "you're gonna have to tell me why you geniuses think those robots are so great, because I really don't see the – "

"ACCESS DENIED. ATTEMPT LIMIT REACHED."

"Oh, _forget it_!"

Dee Dee brought her heel crashing into the keypad, plastic and metal crunching under her foot. Sparks stung her ankle and immediately a piercing alarm filled the corridor, red lights strobing overhead, drowning the walls with color. _"Warning, warning, secure ward has been breached, initiate secondary security protocol –"_

Dee Dee winced under the flashing of the lights, but she stumbled through the automatic doors as they slid open before her, freed from their lockdown.

"Dexter," she gasped out, "come on, it's time to – "

Her breath caught in her throat.

" - Go."

The room was blinding and pristine, but the whiteness was broken by a single black square, a hole in the floor where a tile had been ripped up and thrown away. A solid shaft of darkness led down into the earth like a grave.

The alarm blared and screamed above her, but all Dee Dee could hear was her heartbeat ringing through her brain.

-X-

"Let me in, you have to _let me in!"_

"Good afternoon, Number One," the head secretary began. "I hope I find you well – "

"I have to see Mandark! I have to talk to him _now!_ "

"The Executive is not in the office today, Number One. The Executive has taken a company sick day."

 _"WHAT?_ Where is he?"

"Presumably at home – "

"At home? The _penthouse_?"

"Yes, at the Plaza…" the secretary called after her as she tore back through the office doors. "Will that be all, Number One?"

-X-

It was just like he said. The view from the penthouse was astonishing.

She could see the entire city skyline. The front room was bigger than all the ones in her apartment combined. There was even a hot tub.

There was also an overpowering smell of chemicals. There was also a worktable, piled high with vials and beakers. There was also a wall of television screens, views of the office, the street, her home.

He hadn't told her that.

Dee Dee took it all in with one slow look, and found she barely cared. Her sight was drawn, instead, to the great contraption in the heart of the room, surrounded by steel spikes like black thorns. She recognized it at once, like she was remembering a dream. It was the machine from the blueprint she'd lost, the drawing that had slipped from her fingers, gliding to rest beneath Mandark's desk, out of Dexter's grasp. So this was what it did. She studied the flow-control lever, the thick glass chamber, the steadily-rising pressure gauges. It harnessed the powers of the Neurotomic Protocore, that small green star, the only bit of brilliance in a dark, dark place.

 _"Dee Dee."_

She hated how he said her name. When she saw her face flash up on several screens at once, she knew he'd been watching her the entire time.

He stood a few feet behind her, dim light illuminating every angle of his perfect suit. "You kept the key. I'm touched."

"It was in my junk drawer." Dee Dee tossed it to the middle of the room where it lay on the floor, unnoticed by either of them.

"You know, you really might have called, first." Mandark adjusted his glasses with gloved hands and a smirk. "Let me guess. You're here about _Dexter."_

"Don't you mean Number Twelve?"

He frowned at the observation, restoring the appropriate power balance with a careless wave. "I'm glad to see you've come to your senses, Dee Dee. I knew it was only a matter of time. But as _you_ can see, circumstances have...altered since our previous rendezvous." He motioned toward the stolen reactor, pulsing softly between them, not a trace of shame. "I've made someexecutive decisions. Our little deal is off."

"I know. That's not why I'm here."

A startled look passed over Mandark's face before disappearing in his disdainful sneer. "No?" he demanded. "What else would bring you to my door? If you've a plan to change my mind I'll warn you now, you're much too late. And from the looks of it - why, you are in no condition to bargain, my love."

He eyed her up and down, found her lacking, and stopped abruptly when he met her steadfast gaze.

"I'm not your love, Mandark. I never was. I'm your enemy. And I'm here to stop you."

Then his show of confidence dissolved at once, replaced by that horrible, hate-filled glare she'd come to know so well. The last face, she knew, that Dexter had ever seen.

"The core will destroy everything, won't it?" she pursued, voice flat. "That's why you wanted it so much. That's why you hurt him." Her shadow sprawled across the tile, long and lean in the greenish glow. "Well, I'm not going to stand by and let you ruin everything my brother worked for, everything he wanted. I'm not."

Sweat dripped down Mandark's flabby face. He stood tall as his lanky frame would allow trying, she guessed, to look intimidating. She wasn't frightened. At another time, she might have felt sorry for him. But right now, she didn't feel much of anything.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he hissed, but the way his voice shook told her differently. "You're in far above your pretty head. Number Twelve created the core for one reason, and one reason only - to satisfy his wretched ego! What he wanted was fame and fortune, mindless adulation, no matter the consequence to anyone but himself - "

"But he didn't want _this!_ " Dee Dee exploded, sheer indignation bursting through the numbness. "Do you even hear what you're _saying?_ Look around you, you idiot! Only a lunatic would want this, a psycho, and that's exactly what you are! And you might be able to buy the city, and you might be able to steal and torture and - and _kill_ , even - but you don't get to destroy the world just because you're too selfish to care!"

He exhaled, a hollow laugh. _"_ Why should I care? Tell me that. No one has _ever_ cared for me - not even you! This is the real world, Dee Dee, it's every man for himself. And I'm done being second best."

She was staring down the barrel of a discharge photon blaster, and she made a decision. "You - you aren't going to shoot me."

The gun whined with pent-up energy. "On the contrary, Number One, I am perfectly willing to keep my enemies close - but first, you must back away from the reactor."

Dee Dee took a step away, watching the gun, groping behind her back.

"That's right. Do as I say." Mandark grinned. "Don't make me hurt you. Don't be stupid."

She felt the button give beneath her thumb. "I'm not stupid," she said. "I'm the smartest person I know."

It snapped and snarled around Mandark's forearm before he knew what happened, and then he was screaming, clutching at his wrist as the electrolaser burned through fine Italian wool, melted black rubber onto and into his skin. _"AAARRRGH!"_

Well, Mandark Industries could certainly make a weapon. Good thing she had that junk drawer.

Dee Dee dropped the prototype whip and ran for the gun as it fell from his ruined hand. It was just a ray gun, she'd used them all her life – and the second she touched the grip she collided against the tile, Mandark's twisted features looming up above her.

He was weak, but he was furious, and he pinned her down by both her arms. _Tomoe nage, circle throw._ With a shout she drove her foot into his gut and pitched him overhead where he slammed heavily to the floor behind her.

She didn't look back, the gun lay a few feet away, and she staggered to her feet when searing pain ripped across her scalp. He was up again, fingers buried in her hair, and with two great handfuls he dragged her, merciless, against the wall of flashing screens. Dee Dee moved to throw him off but she couldn't get the leverage. He'd outsmarted her and he knew it. She clawed at his hands but his gloves protected him and he grabbed her tight. Fumes of burnt rubber swirled about her head and she yelped as his arm closed around her throat.

The edges of her vision went blurry. She panicked. "Mandark." Her breath came in short shallow gasps. " _Unh...Mandark…_ "

He was silent, focused, but when she begged his name a faint sound escaped between his teeth - a little, tiny, satisfied chuckle.

Then every muscle in her body turned cold with blind rage.

Dee Dee stomped into his shining shoe, tore his arm from her neck, and brought her head forward and back. She felt something solid break against her skull as television screens went dark. "My nose!" Mandark screeched. " _My glasses!"_

She didn't care, she had the gun, she was cranking the dial to max power, and then she was grabbing at air as he tackled her around the waist and they both fell crashing into the worktable. Beakers broke against her shoulder blades and slashed into her arms, chemicals sizzled on her skin, but Dee Dee shoved at Mandark's neck, sent him rolling and roaring as the glass shattered beneath him. She landed on top, he backhanded her across the face, and she seized at his lapels, tumbling backwards. They were dancing - no, falling - hurled off-balance by his weight, and for one strange second she could hear the core twinkling softly in her ear, before she hit the floor in front of the high-charge reactor.

A beam of green light shone between them, split them apart like a wall. She was covered in blood, hers and his, blonde hair tangled in her eyes. And she was gripping the photon blaster with both hands, as Mandark cowered near the table in a pile of broken glass.

"Dee Dee, don't." Blood trickled from his nose and seeped across his shirt. "Don't do this. You think you're supposed to, you think you have to, but you don't – "

 _"Shut up!_ It's _over!_ You got what you wanted. He's _dead!_ But it's not enough for you, is it?" She heard her tears in her voice. "It's never enough! You won't stop until _everything_ in this whole world revolves around _you_!"

She had him where she wanted. _Shoot him now and the core will be safe! Shoot him now, he'll never hurt anyone else!_ But she couldn't do it. Mandark watched her closely through the light. She was nervous, shaking, and she couldn't do it - even as a thin smile began to form at the corners of his mouth.

 _"Dead?"_ he repeated _._ "Your brother, dead? Oh Number One, your girlish naivete will never cease to thrill me!"

He flinched as she leveled the gun at his face. "W-what are you talking about?"

"You think I _killed_ him." He said it like a punchline. "That would be so much better, wouldn't it? Your precious baby brother, brutally murdered at the hands of his archenemy - if only it were _true_."

Her heart stopped. _"What?"_

"You're fighting the wrong battle," he sneered. "You would choose him every time, over _everyone_ else, but he would _never_ choose you! Did he wonder what might happen to you, did he even care? _No._ At the first sign of trouble your brother fled for his life, burrowed like the miserable grub he is, _straight through the tower floor!"_

Dee Dee couldn't speak. She could only stare, palms slick around the grip of the gun.

"But _I've_ protected you, Number One," he went on rapidly. " _I've_ preserved you. The world will go dark and you will remain untouched!"

He was so pleased with himself. Why?

"He's gone," she echoed.

 _"Yes."_

"He got away."

"Yes…"

"He's alive."

"Well…"

"And you just let him go!"

She watched Mandark's face drain white, and at the same time discovered she was smiling.

 _"No!_ He'll die! He won't survive! He's not like us!" He threw his arm up, so very pathetic. "Don't do this! Use your brain, think of yourself! When has your kindness to him _ever_ been repaid?"

"It didn't have to be repaid."

Mandark sprang for the reactor and she fired. Someone screamed. The impact threw him to the ground.

He reached for the wound, then he looked at her with his wicked smile, and she saw too late that she'd struck him in his shoulder and not his heart. He was up, moving - she fired again, clipped him in the side - but his arms were out and reaching –

"Mandark, no!" she shrieked _. "Don't!"_

He sank to the floor, lever gripped in both hands, and it was all over.

She didn't hear the sound. She felt it. In her eyes and her teeth; in her bones and muscles and blood - one great wave, washing over her and throwing her against the tile. Then another wave, stronger. Then more and more and more, like the beating of a heart. Dee Dee heard the shattering of glass, television screens blown to pieces above her. She felt the burn of sparks rain down against her skin. _The switch…_ If she could only touch it, if she could only _move…._

She curled into herself on the floor and wrapped her arms around her head, but she couldn't stop the core's pulsations tearing through her body and her brain. "M – Mandark – " she exhaled, words lost in the rippling air. "Mandark, _please!"_

He was still there, a sharp black figure against blazing red light. He clutched at the lever like it was his only hold on the world, an anchor in his pool of dark blood. His face was sick, deathly pale. But behind his broken glasses, Mandark's eyes flamed with the glow of his prize.

When he saw what he had done - when he saw he'd won it all - he threw back his head, swallowed every powerful wave the Neurotomic Protocore blasted through his jaw, and screamed with rasping laughter.

 ** _"HA HA! HA! HA HA HA HA HA!"_**

It filled her ears and it filled the room, inseparable from the destruction, identically vicious and relentless. The horrible shrieks poured from his throat like the blood from his wounds, and Dee Dee shrank away, unable to watch, even as she was forced to listen.

It was going to kill her, she thought, or else it would drive her mad - when, above everything else, she heard a tremendous crack like the snap of the burning whip. She turned her head - it was no weapon. It was the sound of the penthouse windows splitting under the force of the core. There was another crack, and sharp lines began to appear in the glass, shooting through the panes as if they too were trying to run from the incredible pressure.

Instinct told her to move. Dee Dee scraped her hands against the floor, dragging herself away from the fission reactor, gaining on the penthouse door inch by inch until she was able to stumble to a crawl. Again she felt the negative energies coursing through her muscles, but the distance allowed her to stay upright and with a desperate push she flung the door into the hall. "We have to get out!" she shouted. _"Mandark!"_

He couldn't hear her for the laughter. The building groaned, she ran, she left him there, howling and triumphant and alone.


	12. Back to the Lab

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

 **Back to the Lab**

Dee Dee didn't know how long she'd been running. She only knew that evening had fallen, flooding the sky with shades of orange and red.

She couldn't feel the waves anymore. She couldn't hear the chaos. No one grabbed her arms or begged her to help. No one gazed at her with blank and empty eyes. The screaming and the sobbing that filled the air had faded away, replaced by an even more terrible silence.

She could still see the destruction spread out all around her, buildings broken and tumbled down as the energies of the core rolled across the earth with the intensity of the fiercest earthquake. She barely recognized the old neighborhood, would never have found the house, if not for a faint light glinting in the distance – a dying sunbeam on a bit of shining metal.

Dee Dee rushed to the light as though she were drawn by a magnet. The house itself had collapsed. The chimney was little more than a pile of rubble on the lawn, great holes gaping in the shingles of the roof, and the wooden frame leaned at such crazy angles Dee Dee had to throw all her weight against the front door just to push it open.

There was no one inside. No Mom or Dad, of course. No nice couple and their little boy. She didn't stop to wonder what had happened to them. The walls of the living room were cracked through, bits of wood and glass and plaster covering the carpet, but she saw that part of the staircase was still in tact, as well as some of the upper floor. She thought she knew why.

Sure enough, the elaborate steel reinforcements hidden behind Dexter's bedroom walls were still supporting the house's right side. Dee Dee found his bookcase shivered to fragments on the floor as it had fallen free of its bolts, leaving the laboratory doors fully revealed. The tremors had evidently triggered some kind of mechanism. They were open slightly, a small star-shaped hole formed in the intersection of the solid metal layers.

Dee Dee gripped the doors and pulled. There was a piercing shriek of grinding metal, but she managed to force the opening wide enough to allow her a path through. The fiery sunset shone through a gash in the ceiling where the roof had crumbled in, and she blinked against its reflection on the lab's gleaming surfaces. Only one thing mattered in all that vast space, and she kept running in its direction.

The time machine had fallen on its side in the commotion amidst a tangle of tubing and wires. She tried to drag it upright, and when it proved too heavy to move Dee Dee dropped to her knees by the clock's doorway instead.

"There's only one hope left," she whispered, flinging the wreckage of the lab away. Her voice was hoarse and panicked. It sounded like someone else. "I can go back to the past, back before any of this ever happened. I can stop it from _ever_ happening if I can just…just…get back to the way things used to be!"

It was a mistake to start thinking. Dee Dee's chest tightened and tears welled in her eyes as she frantically searched the broken machine's control panel. "Oh god," she gasped into the silence. "Oh my god, I don't know how it works _. How does it work_?" The control panel was an external one, covered in dials and buttons. What did they do? She ran her hands over every switch, begging her brain to remember which one powered the machine. She'd only used it once or twice before, when Dexter had told her how.

The memory of it flashed like a shock through her mind. Her brother in danger, at the mercy of a terrible monster – screaming directions, looking to her, but no matter what he said she still didn't know what to do….

Then she'd clambered into the time machine, and the next second he was there at his desk, busy and safe, all their troubles disappeared.

The time machine would fix everything. She could warn him, stop him. All she had to do then, all she had to do _now_ was just go back, give him a message and it would all be _better_ , and he would look at her and say -

 _If there were a message so important that it would require time travel, I certainly would not entrust it to my **idiot** sister! I would send **myself.**_

It hadn't stopped anything. He would never believe her.

"It won't work!" Dee Dee sobbed. " _It won't work!"_

She was choking on the air, face burning as salty tears surged through her scratches and wounds. She clung to the time machine, her last hope, but it wasn't really any hope at all. There was no going back, there was nothing she or anyone could do to protect the core, to stop everything from being ruined, to keep the world from being overcome with darkness. All she had left was the empty laboratory and its useless machines and its broken promises of a better future.

But at least she had a future.

The metal had grown warm from the touch of her skin. Dee Dee opened her eyes and lay against the clock for a moment longer, drained of all her tears and strength. Then, with one defiant burst of energy, she raised herself off the shell of the time machine.

She gulped, she sniffed, and she thought, _Tears for the past are a waste of time._

She had a future. And as long as she had a future…she had a chance.

He really was a genius.

Dee Dee sat back on her heels and scrubbed at her cheeks, grit and grime smearing across her skin. She tried to push her hair away but the sweaty strands hung stubbornly in her face. She dug into her pocket. It was funny. She'd been slapped, and sliced, and nearly killed, but she still had a ponytail holder. Only one, though.

She tied her hair back, climbed to her feet, then staggered and twisted as a violent pain blasted through her knee. For the first time in hours she realized how badly injured she was, and the sight of the blood, dried black and brittle on her clothes, made her instantly faint.

Stumbling, panting, she carefully picked her way over to Dexter's primary workstation. He had stashed massive first-aid kits all over the lab, ready for use whenever she'd blown his latest experiment to smithereens. They'd often patched each other up in the angry silence that always followed.

"This isn't the right drawer, though." This one held old costume pieces for suiting up. There were boots, gloves, a few leotards, and resting on top Dee Dee found her favorite pink flight goggles. It was the pair she'd worn when her family had defeated the kaiju Badaxtra, against all odds. She was still the only one who remembered that.

Dee Dee held the goggles up to her eyes, and suddenly the world became soft and rosy and beautiful.

She thought, "It's gonna be okay."

She knew it didn't make any sense. She knew it was totally crazy. The waves of the Neurotomic Protocore had swept the earth; almost everything she loved was gone. But here, in Dexter's laboratory, she felt safer than she had in a very long time. She felt like she was home.

As long as she had a future…as long as she had a chance...there was still hope.

"It's gonna be okay."

Dee Dee shut up the drawers to Dexter's desk. She glanced over her shoulder at the time machine, resting on its side in the shadows. Then she took her old phone out of her pocket.

She had fallen on it during the fight, smashed it into splinters of plastic and wire. She brushed her fingertips over the smooth white surface, then she set it gently on the desk.

"You're right, Dexter. Some things can't be repaired. But a lot of things can. And someday, somehow, we're gonna make our future bright again." She smiled. "I swear it."

 **THE END**


End file.
